Murmur
by DisneyLady824
Summary: Madeline has been terrified of men because of what happpened in her past. Since traveling across the country to live with her aunt, she hasn't spoken a word. "Why speak when there's nothing to be said?"
1. Stealing Away

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for this chapter!

**_Scout-britt  
Nichole  
Rambles  
chaoticmom  
British Invasion 2009  
NYNA  
xXLet the Flames beginxX_**

_(Chapter Edited on – 7/8/11)_  
**I'm pretty sure that if you manage to get through the first few chapters that you'll be pleasantly surprised with the things I've thought up in later chapters. So please, just take the time to actually read past (at least) chapters three and four. **

_**I'm currently in the process of rereading and fixing all the grammar or spelling mistakes I might have made from before. Just remember, I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so every mistake you see is all on me and I'm trying to fix that.**_

_This is the only **disclaimer** you will see throughout the whole story because, well, I DON'T OWN NEWSIES! Never have and never will! I don't get any profit from this Fanfiction other then the reviews that you've all sent in. The characters that you don't recognize are mine, the characters that you _do _recognize, though, it should be pretty obvious that I don't own them._

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**Chapter One - Stealing Away**

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The one thing I can vividly remember about that night were the screams. The terrifying screeches and the disgusting grunts coming from the next room. My sister was asleep on the mattress next to me, her face showing discomfort and her body twisting into an uncomfortable position. Her dreams usually kept her up at night. The nightmares that took over made her wake in the middle of the night screaming for 'him' to stay away. She was only five years old. Me, being ten, wasn't much older, but I knew what was happening in our parents bedroom. I wish I didn't know what happened on the other side of those paper thin walls. I ran my fingers through Misty's thin blond hair and kissed her forehead as she made a sound of distress.

There was a loud bang and I jumped as heavy footsteps stomped down the hallway and paused in front of our bedroom door. I froze, silently waiting as the person breathing haggardly stood on the other side of the door. The floorboards creaked and I pulled my younger sibling into a tight embrace, my eyes closing in relief as the person standing outside continued down the hallway after a few brief moments. I could hear the door to the apartment open and then slam shut. I glanced out the window into the darkness and then gently laid Misty back down onto the mattress. I pulled the sheets up over her tiny body and got up to open the door.

After looking both ways down the dark hall I tiptoed from behind the door and closed it softly. I winced with every creak the floor made beneath my feet; it was as if any sound could have him racing back through the front entrance. I barely tapped on the paint chipped door that lead to the bedroom he and my mother shared, my fingers running over the rough wood as I nudged it open.

The sight that greeted me would haunt me for the rest of my life. She lay on the floor barely clothed and sobbing as she tried to stand up. Her long silky hair was no longer perfect and now lay in a disarray and was knotted throughout her whole head. Bruises painted her body, as if it had been a previously blank canvas that was now painted on. I could see hand shaped masses resting on her upper arms as the sleeves of her nightdress rose. My strong mother had finally broken.

I immediately crossed the floor to her and she looked up as she heard the smack of my bare feet flying towards her. Both her eyes were surrounded by black and blue, and her left one was almost closed completely shut. The tears continued down her beaten cheeks and I grimaced as I saw that her nose was bleeding profusely.

"Mommy?"

She couldn't answer. Instead, she grabbed a hold of my shoulders and pulled me into a tight hug. Her fingers grasped the back of my nightgown and I held onto my mother's body with the same fierceness she did with mine. I gasped quietly, holding back tears as her fingers dug into the fresh injuries that I had also gained earlier in the day. She quickly held me at arms length and smiled the saddest smile I had ever seen grace her lips.

"I'm sorry, Madeline. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you today."

A tear escaped my eye and traveled down my cheek. "It's not your fault, Mama. It's mine, I talked back."

My mother shushed me. "It's not your fault, Maddie. It's never your fault. You did nothing wrong, and you remember that."

* * *

It wasn't my mother's wrongdoing either when her husband came home two weeks later to no supper on the table. Misty was sick with a fever and mother had been taking care of her all day. She'd had no time to make dinner for any of us.

Robert Filly was a cruel and sadistic man. When my mother had first met him, he was the most kindest man our family had ever met next to my real father. He took my mother out to eat and treated her with the utmost respect. He always brought toys and treats for Misty and I whenever he came to visit. Everything was all happiness and smiles until three months after my mother married him. He became violent. It started small with tiny slaps on the arm or hands when something wasn't done right. Those small hits turned into punches that could crush the bones in a person's cheek. Those slaps turned into pushes that rammed sharp table corners and other objects into someones ribs.

When mother didn't have dinner ready that night, Robert stumbled to the bedroom the three of us were currently staying in. The door smashed open and the large man stood with a feral look in his glazed eyes. His slightly drunken state made him walk in a tipsy stride as he hauled himself from the door jam and into the room. My mother stood quickly from Misty's bedside and pushed me behind her.

The next thing I knew, Robert was pulling the older woman through the doorway and out into the hall. He dragged her kicking and yelling into the kitchen and Misty sat petrified with fear as our mother's panicked screams reached us. I left my little sister in the corner of the room screaming out, "Stay here!" and slammed the door shut behind me as I took off down the hall. Later in life I would remember the way my mother's fingernails scratched at the wood floor as she scrambled to get away. It was like nails on a chalkboard to my ears.

I would never forget Robert's furious face as he shoved me away from him when I tried to stop him from his actions. My body landed against the kitchen counter and the cut I received from my face greeting the hard surface above my eyebrow, bled into my left eye. I was knocked to the floor and kicked in the ribs before Robert turned back to my mother. I was barely conscious as I heard my mother shrieking for help. I was there for the whole thing. I watched as the man my mother called husband brutally raped her and then beat her until there was no life left in her eyes.

The woman who cradled me to sleep after a beating, the one who sang softly to us during the night, the one who loved and cared for my sister and I so much, was gone. That night was the last time I spoke. From that moment on I stayed silent through the abuse and molestation. Robert Filly took away my voice the night he murdered my beautiful and nurturing mother.

Weeks after Robert had disappeared into the night with her dead body, I finally decided that I'd had enough of his abuse. I was afraid that he would start in on Misty more than he already had and I could only do so much to protect her from him doing what he'd done to me. She didn't deserve any of the awful things that had been thrust onto me by that monster.

So, as I sat there in the corner of the room on the mattress we shared, I planned our escape. Misty's dreams were getting worse and now I, more often then I wanted, woke screaming in the middle of the night. I held onto my sister tightly as dishes crashed against walls. I rocked her back and forth while humming softly. The ruckus stopped and the force of the front door being slammed made the walls around us shudder.

Misty's tears soaked her blouse and she started sobbing loudly, no longer fearing the wrath that would have been brought down upon her from her loud cries if he'd been in the next room. Her breathing grew erratic and I tried calming her down as my own tears fell into her hair. I stood quickly and pulled her up with me when she cried louder from our loss of contact. I shuffled around our room and packed a bag with all the clothes and trinkets I could fit into it. My sister settled slightly and grabbed for the stuffed bunny rabbit that was given to her by our mother and father. I grasped her hand and tugged her behind me as we reached the kitchen. I glanced around at the mess on the floor and then dropped down onto my knees in front of the sink. I pulled the cupboard door open and reached far into the back. After pushing random bottles and jugs out of the way, I pulled out a jar that was almost filled to the brim with assorted coins.

I looked into my sobbing sisters eyes and smiled softly at her. She reached for me and I picked her up. I settled her onto my hip and then struggled with putting the bag onto my other shoulder. We stole away into the night, sticking to the shadows until we reached the train station. How Misty knew that I wanted tickets to New York was beyond me, but she knew. She must have remembered all those stories about our aunt who lived in New York, and how she and our mother used to live across from the Newsboy Lodging House in Manhattan. Because that's where we were currently heading. To get onto a contraption that we never had before, to go to a city we'd never been to, and to live with an aunt we'd never met. We were doing it, and we were going to be brave while riding that train.

I let my sister do all the talking. She was old enough to understand my need to be silent, she'd also been there to hear the unnerving screams. We comforted each other on the train ride, and both of us cried as we realized that our mother wouldn't be walking through the compartment door with a grin on her face, happy to be away from all the horror. As we got farther and farther away from California, it finally hit me. Hard. I knew I looked a mess, and the old crone sitting across from us took pity on me and handed me a handkerchief. I blew my nose into it and smiled softly as she looked revolted from the sound of it.

As the train rolled into one of New York's stations a few weeks later, my tears had stopped. My sister's did the same as we both recognized that our mother wasn't coming back to save us from being alone. We found our aunt's apartment with only slight trouble (we had to ask only one person where the Manhattan Lodging House was and immediately found our way) and it seemed that she had been expecting us to walk through her front door, having received a letter from our mother a couple months previously. When she learned that her sister wasn't returning to her by word of her niece, she immediately broke down and cradled us to her chest. The words of pain and hurt traveled from the mouth of my sister to the ear of my aunt and she gave me a worried look through her mourning tears. She told us that we were allowed to stay, and that we would never be turned away.

My aunt still lived across from the Newsboys Lodging House in the same apartment that her and my mother used to live in as small girls. Every morning those rowdy boys would be out on the streets making as much noise as possible and living like there was no tomorrow. They were just like my mother told us they would be from the stories she used to tell.

I was frightened of going outside, and whenever I managed the courage to venture from my aunt's apartment, I'd look over my shoulder every few minutes. I was continuously waiting for Robert's sausage-like fingers to reach out and grab me.

* * *

It's been six years since we departed from California and I still haven't uttered a word. There was no speaking from my side of the conversation during dinner time, nor was there any discussion about my day while cleaning up the table. There was silent observation from me and chatty gossip from both Misty and aunt Sara every meal. I smiled at Misty's rendition of the rush lunch hour that day and handed Sara a clean bowl that needed to be put away.

With Misty still babbling away behind us, Sara turned to me and muttered quietly, "Just as long as she isn't out there on the streets selling herself away. It's doing her good to work down at Tibby's. You can tell, can't you?"

I gave a discreet nod and tuned back in to the speed talker behind us.

"-nd Marcus -I've told you about him haven't I?- turned just as some kid from Queens comes dashing through the aisle and they crashed into each other. Food flew everywhere and plates and glasses were broken. You shoulda seen Tibby's face, he was furious!"

"Oh, I bet," Sara said and then reached to put a plate on the top shelf. I rinsed the last few dishes, my aunt quickly drying them and putting them away, and then gestured Misty into the next room. I sat down on the sofa and she plopped herself down on the floor between my legs. I hummed softly as I went about my nightly routine of combing her dark blond hair and then braiding it into two plaits. While I did this, Misty watched aunt Sara gather up materials and start sewing together some items that had needed to get patched up at the factory, but hadn't, and were instead brought home.

I finished and tugged on Misty's braids to signal my success. She rose from the floor and gave Sara a kiss on the cheek, receiving one back and gathered a few articles of clothing from her and then hurried back over to me to accept a kiss on the forehead and to give me the pile of clothes she collected. I chose a skirt first and started sewing up a hole that was in the waistline seam. Misty said her goodnight's and then hesitated in the doorway to her room.

"Um...aunt Sara? Maddie?"

We both paused in our mending and looked up.

"What is it sweetheart?" asked Sara.

She hesitated once more and fiddled with her powder blue skirt, raising the hem higher then her ankles and then dropping it back to the floor. She did this one more time before answering aunt Sara. "Do you mind if a few people come over for supper tomorrow?"

The breath that was caught in my throat didn't want to come loose. Aunt Sara glanced over at me and I swallowed hard. I looked at Misty and tilted my head.

"Who'd be coming? Oh, just a couple little kids. Probably should have mentioned that first," she said this under her breath. "A few of them are even younger then me, so no need to worry, Mads."

I inhaled fresh air and then brushed a few loose strands of strawberry blond hair back from my face.

"There's nobody over the age of twelve...I think. Boots might be thirteen but I'm not sure. Snipeshooter's about twelve and a half, Twiggy near eleven and I think Patches is around eight."

I had heard her mention these names before and recognized them as being newsboys who lived across the street. Aunt Sara looked at me worriedly and I gazed down at the fabric in my lap. I gave a small nod.

Misty squeaked and then launched herself at me for a hug. "Don't you even worry about it, Maddie, they wouldn't hurt a fly. It'll be great, you'll see."

She got up from where she had landed on top of me and happily returned her walk to her room. When she closed the door, aunt Sara whispered, "You don't have to do this, Madeline, you know that don't you?"

I stared down at the stitching I was doing and dipped my head lower.

Sara sighed. "It'll be ok. And it'll be good for you too."

We both went back to our sewing and I tried to imagine what would happen once those boys stepped through the front doorway.

* * *

I never went outside of our apartment complex. I might borrow flour from the neighbor lady across the hall or go to the roof to hang up the laundry, but I never stepped foot off the stoop and into the street. I'd had a rough encounter with a couple of ruffians (Misty called them 'Scabbahs' with that exact pronunciation) and decided that I'd had enough of the outside world. If anyone were to break into the apartment I wouldn't have a clue what to do.

I was dressed in a white long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up above my elbows and the hem tucked into the dark ankle length skirt resting against my waist. The gray trousers I was wearing underneath the skirt fell to my bare feet and the legs were folded up a few times so I wouldn't trip over them. Strands of hair fell loose from the messy bun I had recently put it in to make dinner. I was constantly reaching up to push them behind my ears. I stirred the simple stew I had made and then started cutting the loaf of bread into thin slices.

My fingers clenched around the top of the handle of the knife as I heard voices float through the walls in the outer hallway. My hands stopped their cutting motion and I froze when a key was heard being put into the lock on the front door and the doorknob was turned. It went silent and I anxiously waited for Misty to yell out her greeting. My toes curled and I gripped the counter with my free hand.

"Maddie! We're here!"

I sighed in relief and released my hold on the knife. I grimaced at the small amount of blood from the small blade biting into the skin on my pointer finger and wiped my hand on the folds of my skirt. The sound of footsteps found their way towards the kitchen and I once again pushed hair back behind my ears. I looked over my shoulder at Misty as she entered and gave a shy smile to the three small boys that followed in after her. I gestured towards the table with my head and my younger sibling pushed the silent boys towards their seats.

"You need any help, Mads?"

I nodded my head and reached into my skirt's pocket and pulled out a small tablet of paper and a short dull pencil. I wrote a few things down before stepping away from the counter and tossed it over to her. She caught it as I turned and I could hear small whispers as she ripped the page out of the book.

"Alright," she said with irritation. She got up from her seat and got up on the counter to reach the top cupboard shelves. I grabbed onto the back of her shirt and held her weight as she leaned backwards to open the door and then pulled bowls down.

"Is aunt Sara home yet?"

Once Misty had jumped safely back to the floor I held my arm out for the notebook and she immediately placed it in my hand.

No, she said she'd be late when she left this morning. She should be back by seven.

Misty nodded and set the bowls out in front of her friends. I carefully picked up the hot pot of stew and brought it over to the table. As I went back over to the counter to get the spoons and bread, Misty started introducing the boys.

"Maddie, this here is Snipeshooter, Patches and Boots. Twiggy couldn't come cause his parents said so. Said it was something to do with a family dinner."

Each of the boys removed their different colored hats and bowed their heads to me. I set the utensils and bread down on the table and reached for my notebook.

I'm very pleased to meet you.

And I was. As each of us sat down around the table and I began dishing out soup into their bowls, the conversation started. All three of those boys wanted my input on certain comments like, "Did ya 'ear about da Trolley Workers Strike? It's been all ovah da papahs." or "You'se nevah 'ad one a dem big apples from da corner market? I'se gonna hafta bring you'se one a those." and even "Ya know, you'se look like one a dem goils dat Skitts was datin. You'se evah 'eard of a kid named Skittery?"

The chatter was continuous and when aunt Sara opened the door and entered with her daily load of clothes to mend, I never even heard her. One moment I was chuckling at something Boots had complained about and the next I was looking at a very surprised Sara standing in the doorway watching us. I quickly stood up and went to the cupboard for another bowl and turned to see that Snipeshooter had gotten out of his chair and was sliding it over towards my aunt.

"'ere ya go's Ma'am. You'se can take my seat."

Sara held a hand to her chest. "Why thank you, young man, that's very kind of you."

Snipeshooter blushed and ruffled his hand through his dark curly hair. Boots and Patches laughed at the red on his cheeks and Misty giggled.

I shook my head at them and handed Sara the cracked bowl and let her serve herself to the stew and sliced bread. She caught my eye and grinned over at me. I smiled back and resisted telling Patches to stop tugging on his ear. It must have been a nervous habit because he had been doing it ever since he sat down at the table.

Later that evening I gathered up the dirty dishes and set them in the sink to soak. My bare feet barely made a sound as I went back and forth from the table to the counter.

"Hey, Maddie?"

I turned to look at Misty standing in the doorway. The three newsies were slouching behind her. I nodded my head to tell her I was listening and then went back to work.

"Do you need any help?" She asked quietly.

I turned around and leaned up against the edge of the counter, shaking my head.

The three boys grinned and Misty shifted to shrug her shoulders at them. "Guess your free to go, boys."

Each of them came over to say goodbye to me by shaking my hand. It looked like they had been resisting spitting into their palms as they did so. I nodded my reply to their goodbye's and then blew out a sigh of relief as they left the room. Misty came back after leading them out and leaned against the counter next to the sink and crossed her arms as she studied me.

"They were asking why you didn't talk."

I peeked over at her and wiped at my face with my arm to get soapy water off my cheek.

"I told them that is was none of their business other then that you don't talk much."

I smiled in amusement and she sheepishly looked up at me. "I didn't mean for that to be a joke, Mads."

I lifted a shoulder in reply and kept smiling down at the dirty water.

"You sure you don't want help? I'm here with two free hands, you know? I can be of great service once I get started."

I rolled my eyes and threw a dry dish towel at her. I raised my eyebrows at her as she groaned.

"I dried last time."

"Well it looks like your drying this time, too."

I swiveled around to see aunt Sara leaning against the doorway.

Misty mumbled under her breath and started drying a glass. Once she was finished she held the arm with the clear glassware in it up in the air. Sara made a sound of disbelief and crossed the floor to stand next to my sister.

"Yes. I'll do it Misty." Sara moved around the kitchen to put the dish my sister had recently held away.

Misty left the smug smile on her face as she did her job and I bumped my hip into her. She only glanced up at me before continuing on.


	2. Baking that Tastes like Heaven

_Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 2!_

_**Rambles  
huffle-bibin  
Ashley Mckeever (chaoticmom)  
Nichole  
X-Scree Scree-X**_

_(7/8/11)_  
**The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Two – Baking That Tastes Like Heaven**

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Every day after that night, with or without Misty, those three young newsies took turns coming to visit me. Each morning after both Misty and aunt Sara were gone they'd come running up the stairs like a stampede of wild horses were on their heels and bang on the door before managing to pop the lock and yelling their individual greetings.

Boots, with his dark complexion and soft chocolate eyes, would stomp his feet twice, yell out a 'WHOOP' and then slam the door shut. Patches and his short stature and messy, dirty blond hair would make an appearance with screaming my name out into the apartment. Twiggy, who I did eventually get to meet after a few days, would open and close the door so softly that I wouldn't even know he'd come in. He liked to sneak up on me and surprise me with a loud 'BOO!'. Snipeshooter, the one who came over most often, for some reason loved to give out a Native American Indian call. His hand would bob over his mouth and his feet would skip as he ran to find where ever I was located.

"MAAADDDDIIIEEEE!"

Today it was Patches. Misty had previously warned them to make some sort of greeting when entering through the door and, for the most part, they took it to heart. I rolled my shoulders from being hunched over for so long and heard the soles of his boots smash against the floorboards as he made his way to where I was sitting next to the window in my bedroom.

"Maddie, where ah you'se?" he asked in a sing-song voice.

I quickly slapped my hand on the window and then resumed my drawing of the Lodging House across the street. I had just added detail to the cobblestones when Patches stuck his head around the corner. I glanced at him with a smile and then went back to my sketch.

He wandered in and took his time with studying each of the drawings tacked up onto the walls. I finished the edge of the steps and set my sketchpad down on my bed. Patches noticed that I was giving him my undivided attention and ran forward for a hug. I lifted both him and myself from the chair I was sitting on and carried him to the kitchen. I put him down on the counter and reached over to the plate of cookies nearby, ones I had made earlier, and held one out to him.

He squeaked with excitement and snatched a chocolate chip cookie right out of my hand. I wiped my hand on my skirt while pursing my lips. He looked up into my eyes with the brown sweet smeared around his mouth and I softened my look.

"Sahrry."

I winked at him to let him know there were no hard feelings and wiped his face with a spare towel hanging near the sink. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my small notepad. Quickly writing on it, I showed it to Patches just as he was taking his last bite. He inspected what I'd wrote and licked his fingers before talking.

"Ah ya shoah you'se wanna do dis? Dere's gonna be lots of people out dere."

I took a deep breath and nodded my head.

"Ok den, lets get goin."

I motioned him to wait for just a second and rushed down the hall to my aunt's room. I gently opened the door and stepped to her dresser and reached for the money that was in a dish on top of it. I took one last look around the room and closed the door. I ran to my own bedroom and shoved a pair of shoes onto my feet and then rolled the legs of my pants up so they were hidden underneath the hem of my cream colored skirt. I quickly brushed my waist length hair and then dashed back into the kitchen.

Patches was still sitting on the counter where I had left him and I saw that there was more chocolate surrounding his lips. I gave him a disapproving glare and set him down on the floor and took his hat off. After ruffling his hair, I pulled the hat on down over his eyes playfully and picked up my notebook from the table before slipping it, and the pencil, into my skirt pocket. I gathered a couple cookies, wrapped them up in a clean cloth and stuffed them next to my notebook. I indicated for the small boy to grab the basket near the front door and we left with a click of the lock behind us.

* * *

As previously mentioned, ever since the encounter with those three ruffians, I never stepped off the apartment stoop. Especially not alone. But when you've got a family to feed, ya gotta do what ya gotta do. And what I needed to do was to get to the market to gather a few items for dinner for the next few days. Only, I didn't know the way there. It could have been a block away and I still wouldn't have been able to find it. I definitely didn't want to wander Manhattan all alone, so I was relieved when Patches agreed to give me a tour and we made our way down the street. I struggled to keep up with his tiny legs and fast steps. I eventually had to latch onto his hand to keep him from skipping ahead of me and getting lost in the crowd. I took the wicker basket from him so he'd stop swinging it around his head before he hit someone and he continued to wave his free arm in the air even after I took it from him.

I glanced over my shoulder, not liking the feeling of being out in the open. It felt as if someone was watching me, but after a quick look to see everyone minding their own business I turned back around. We finally reached a point on the sidewalk where it got too crowded and Patches locked his fingers into the folds of my skirt. He lead me through the mass of people and I nervously turned this way and that so that I wouldn't touch anybody. Somebody's hand brushed against my back and I arched forward to avoid it happening again. I started losing all hope. We'd never reach the market. I started gasping for air and tightened my hold on Patches' hand. Finally, I could hear the vendors yelling out prices and about how their goods were the best.

I inhaled deeply, nervously smiling at Patches when he rotated to check on me. The men were hawking their slogans and holding up produce, pleading with anybody who passed by to take a gander at their stock laid out on carts and tabletops. I glanced at a few things as I let Patches lead me further into the crowd.

"Extra, extra! Fight at da Trolley Strike brings death!"

I widened my eyes in surprise and tried to find the person yelling out the headline. I bent my head down to see below the roof of a cart to see a boy about my age, maybe a year older, standing near a vendor selling jewelry with a stack of newspapers tucked under his arm. He had a cigar between his lips, which I personally might have thought it would impair his speech just a little bit, and his ink stained fingers were waving a lone paper in the air as he repeated his line.

"Trolley Strike Death!" Another voice rose above the crowd and I recognized the boyish tone.

I strained my neck to look for the body that belonged to the voice. I pulled on Patches' hand to stop him from walking off and stood on the tips of my toes to see better. The caption was about to be read again, and halfway through the headline the young voice cut off. A few seconds later a pair of arms were squeezing my waist and I lifted my hands in bewilderment. I sighed quickly and looked down to see Snipeshooter's face grinning up at me. I flicked his nose and he thrust his head back in annoyance before his face split back into a wide smile.

"What ah ya doin 'ere, Mads?"

I nodded to where Patches was standing and shook my head at him as the young boy stared off at the other boy who was selling a newspaper to a rich looking old woman. I loosened Snipeshooter's arms and reached into my pocket. I pulled out the notebook and flipped through it before finding the page that I had written on to tell Patches that I needed to get some things for supper. I let him read it and then watched as his hand tightened around the fabric of my skirt. He must have noticed the chocolate fingerprint stains from Patches' hands on the paper. I scowled at him as he reached his fingers into my pocket without hesitation and pulled out the bundle of cookies I had packed. I smacked him on the arm with my notepad and he timidly looked up at me from his unwrapping. Rolling my eyes, my head fell forward and I glimpsed something sticking out from beneath his arm and reached down to pull it towards me. He lifted his arm and let me unfold the newspaper to read the front.

'TROLLEY STRIKE WORKERS RIOT!'

I chewed on my cheek and raised my eyebrows at Snipeshooter. He sucked on his dirty fingers and said, "Jus' improvin da truth ah liddle."

I noticed Patches wasn't latched onto my skirt anymore and hurriedly searched the area for him. I caught him standing next to the older newsie and pointing in mine and Snipeshooter's direction. They exchanged a few words and I had to divert my eyes many times as the elder boy caught me watching them. He finally raised his hands in defeat and lowered himself to pick up the stack of newspapers sitting by his feet. Patches, not bothering to help him, took off and started dodging people as he made his way back to us.

"Wanna meet Race, Maddie?" He squeaked out.

I was sure that if my eyes had widened any more they would have fallen right out of my head. I gave out a low whine and took a step back, shaking my head.

Snipeshooter stopped nibbling on one of his cookies and looked at Patches in disbelief. "Did you'se actually ask Racetrack ta come ovah ta meet Mads?"

The youngster nodded enthusiastically and then rubbed his head as Snipeshooter's hand landed on the back of it. "Ya numskull, Don'tchu remembah what Misty told us?"

I took this moment to glance at the progress of the newsboy making his way over to us. He stopped to give a man a paper and nodded his thanks after receiving his payment. He took his cigar from his mouth to announce one last headline and after three people asked for a newspaper, he returned the stogie back between his lips. I noticed that his eyes were focused on me and I apprehensively pulled Snipeshooter in front of me to act as a shield. The smaller boy didn't even notice and unquestioningly settled his back against me as he kept reprimanding Patches.

Snipeshooter shut his trap as the young man finally reached us and threw a large amount, keeping a small stack for himself, of the newspapers he was carrying onto the sidewalk in front of the twelve-year-old. I jumped slightly.

"Mind carryin ya own papes, Snipes, I'se ain'tcha pack mule."

Snipeshooter rolled his eyes, wrapped up what he had in his hand and shoved the last of his cookies into my palm before bending down to rearrange his papers into a neat stack. Patches also leaned down to help collect them. I felt naked as they did so because the teenager in front of me was free to scrutinize me with his dark eyes. I moved my feet uncomfortably and set the basket I had been carrying onto the ground. I didn't want anything to get in the way of me running for my life if need be.

Patches glanced up and looked between the two of us before giving out introductions. "Racetrack dis 'ere is Madeline. Maddie dis is Race."

I flinched back as Racetrack quickly took off his hat. His cold eyes softened at my movement. "It shoah is a pleasure ta meet you'se, Madeline. I'se been 'earin 'bout ya cookin' from Misty Eyes down at Tibby's fa quite a while now."

Snipeshooter stood back up with his papers in hand and noticed the baffled look on my face. "What? You'se didn't think Misty don't talk 'bout you'se? Does every day."

I looked at them uncertainly. Racetrack threw his hat back on his head and said, "Specially 'bout ya bakin'. Said it's da best she's evah 'ad."

Patches stood up and groaned. "Just thinkin bout it makes me want anothah one of those cookies you'se made."

Snipeshooter choked for a moment and then said with excitement, "I'se almost fergot!"

He turned to me and held his hand out. I sighed and politely set the smaller bundle of wrapped goodness into his hand and he shortly had his last cookie unwrapped.

"'ere Race," he said as he broke the cookie in half and offered it to him. "Try dis."

Racetrack took no time in plucking the bit of cookie from Snipeshooter's fingers and popping it into his mouth. He moaned in pleasure. "Tastes like 'eaven."

I cleared my throat and looked away. I'd never had my baking put quite like that before.

"So, Mads," Snipeshooter started. "Did you'se get whatchu needed?"

I shook my head and Patches answered for me. "Nah, we'se 'aven't even started."

Racetrack nodded and wiped the corner of his mouth. "Afterwards would you'se come wid us ta Tibby's. It's almost lunch time. You'se gotta be starvin."

I looked down at the cobblestones on the street and lifted my head when Patches tugged on my skirt.

"Please, Mads. Nothin ain't gonna 'appen to you'se. I'se will make shoah a dat."

Racetrack grinned at the small boy. "Yeah, 'ow ah you'se gonna do dat?"

Patches scuffed his shoe on the ground. "I'se 'aven't gotten dat far in da plan."

I shifted behind Snipeshooter and Racetrack looked back over to me. He gave me a small smile around his cigar and jerked his head towards the market. "Might as well get it ovah wid."

He held his free hand out and waved me passed him. I gently pushed Snipeshooter forward and felt Patches hang onto the back of my shirt, grasping a few strands of my long hair into his fist. I turned and pulled my hair free, getting an apologetic look from the newsboy, and kneeled down to pick up the basket. I followed Snipeshooter farther down the sidewalk and stuck close to him as the mass of people crowded the street. Where we had recently been standing hadn't been as packed as the location we were now headed to. I shied away from Racetrack as he stepped up to my side and jumped as he suddenly shouted.

He lifted a newspaper as he did this and I sidestepped a man reaching between me and Snipeshooter to get it. I gave a low whimper as the man glanced over at me and winked. I bit my bottom lip hard and moved away from him towards Racetrack. The newsie immediately noticed my discomfort and jumped to my rescue. He placed himself in front of me and held his hand out for his money as he handed over the newspaper. The man gave the short teenager an annoyed look and seized the newspaper. If he had snatched it any harder he would have ripped it.

Racetrack took a step back and I had to take one also else he step on me. The man leered at me before getting lost in the crowd. I closed my pale green eyes and my grip on the basket tightened. I reopened them when I was suddenly aware of someone's hand on my arm. I pulled it away quickly when I saw that it was Racetrack.

"Sahrry. Do you'se wanna get dat shoppin done now? I'se promise ta not let dat 'appen again."

I rubbed my forehead and nodded. Patches' fingers were still interlocked in my shirt and as Racetrack let me scoot past, I felt the young boy grab for the basket in my hand. I looked over my shoulder at him and shook my head. Instead of grabbing for the basket again he let his arms fold behind his back.

It took twenty minutes for me to get everything I came for. At every stall Patches would ask a question about a random item laying out on the table. Either the vendor or me, with writing it down, would answer him and we'd move on. Every few minutes I heard Snipeshooter's and Racetrack's voices sound out behind and in front of me. They continued selling their newspapers and only had a few left as I bought the last spice. I shortly wondered why Patches wasn't selling, but let that thought disappear.

"I'se gots one pape left, Maddie. Den we'se can get ta lunch." Snipeshooter pivoted from where he was standing as he announced this.

"An I'se only got a couple left," Racetrack quietly spoke from next to me and I jerked away. He gave me a sad remorseful look. "Do you'se gots everythin' ya needed?"

I nodded.

Racetrack motioned us to start moving. "Good. Snipes and I'se will sell dese on da way ta Tibby's."

I bit my lip in dread and the four of us left the market.

* * *

The whole time it took for us to travel from the market to the diner called Tibby's, I felt a sense of foreboding looming over my head. Nothing good could come from this act of idiotic adventure. I constantly looked over my shoulder at imaginary beings that were gazing at me with intense stares. It felt like everyone on the street was watching me and scrutinizing my every movement. Every time I turned to check, though, nobody was even sparing a glance in my direction. I gripped the wicker basket with all my cooking spices and foods in it and heard the handle creak whenever I twisted my hands around it.

Racetrack continuously checked on me from where he was walking between Patches and Snipeshooter a couple feet in front of me. I sent him a steady wave of smiles when he did and then frowned when he looked away. I tried to make a mental map of the streets we were walking on, but had to keep telling myself that I still didn't really have any idea where we were or how far away Tibby's was located from the street we were currently on. I peeked at the sign on the corner we were turning to and heaved a relieved sigh.

On the corner across the street was the small diner. I could see the name 'Tibby's' spelled out in beautiful calligraphy. The occasional person came in and out in the few seconds I had spotted the restaurant and I could see the shapes of those people moving around inside the building.

The only thing I could think of in that moment was, '_Oh, thank god, no more crowds._'

Oh, how very wrong I was.


	3. Panic Attacks

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 3!

**huffle-bibin  
kaitlyn  
chaoticmom  
Nichole  
Scout-britt**

_(7/8/11)_**  
****The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Three - Panic Attacks**

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I hadn't had an attack in four years. Not since I got lost in the park when my Aunt Sara, Misty and I went out for a day of warm weather and sunshine. It started off as a good day, and ended as a bad one.

* * *

_There were rays of sunshine falling through my window. The way the light hit the floor made me able to see the particles of dust floating in the air. I kicked my blanket off, careful to not disturb Misty beside me, and let my feet sink into the warmth that was radiating off the ray on the wooden floor nearest to my bed. I held my hand up to shield my eyes from the brightness and rubbed at my face. I glanced behind me and smiled at the innocent look my sister was currently holding with her ratty stuffed rabbit that was missing an eye and her thumb in her mouth._

_I rubbed my forehead as I watched her sleep. The nightmares were still coming in full force and she'd slip into my bedroom in the middle of the night with tears coursing down her cheeks. She'd wake me from my own restless sleep cycle and I'd hold her as she struggled to get the bad images out of her head. I'd think back to the happiest memory of my life and immediately the awful pictures would disappear. My mother. I'd think of her and the nightmares would run away with her chasing after them. I'd tell Misty to imagine her in a warriors clothes, maybe holding a sword, and running after the bad dreams while they screamed like small children. She'd giggle at me and cuddle into my side while cradling that old rabbit. She usually fell asleep pretty quickly after that._

_I stood up and turned to wake Misty. I shook her shoulder and let her rub her eyes before jabbing my thumb towards the window. Her eyes widened and she quickly pushed the blanket off of her legs and then threw herself out of the bed. As she tripped over her feet, I reached down to straighten the blankets back up to the head of the bed._

_"Aw, look at it, Mads!" _

_I flattened the pillow and turned to look at her when the light in the room got brighter. She'd pulled the thin curtains back and the sunlight charged throughout the room and filled it up so there were no dim corners where ever I looked. I picked up the rabbit, Misty had named him Knots, from where she had dropped him in her haste to reach the window. I gently set him down on the bed._

_"Think aunt Sara would let us go out for a while? She did promise."_

_I mulled over her words and almost didn't nod my head, which would tell her that I thought Aunt Sara would say no, but saw the awed look on her face as she stared out the window and onto the already busy street below. I sadly smiled at her and pulled at her nightgown._

_Misty grinned up at me with her toothless smile, she was missing her two front teeth, and stumbled over to the door before slamming it open and rushing into the hall. I slowly walked across the floor to re-shut the door and then turned to my armoire. I briskly dressed in my trousers that were torn at the knee and then tugged a light skirt on over them. After pulling a white button up shirt on over my head, I left the room. _

_Aunt Sara was bustling around in the kitchen and she set a bowl in front of me as I sat down at the table. I frowned at the grayish gruel sitting in my view and noticed the way Sara raised her eyebrows at me._

_"You know it's the only thing we have, Madeline. Just eat it."_

_The gray goop that my small family called oatmeal was disgusting. Every other morning we'd manage to get by with shoving it down our throats. It kept me living throughout the day so I never complained, occasionally moaned at the thought of eating it, but never got the courage to tell my aunt to just throw it out the window for the stray dogs to eat. With the way it smelled, they probably wouldn't even make an attempt to taste it._

_"So, I heard Misty stomping for her bedroom this morning like a bunch of wild hogs were after her. I assume she saw that it's nice out today?"_

_I nodded my head and let a large glob of oatmeal drop from my spoon and back into the bowl. Aunt Sara turned and gave me a disappointed look after hearing the 'plop.' I gave her a small smile and put a spoonful of the thickening fluid into my mouth. She grinned at me and went back to whatever she had been doing. I cringed and would have spit all of it back into the bowl if it hadn't been for Misty skipping into the room in her best clothes. I cleaned up what I had spat up on my chin and held my grimaces in. Sara crossed the room and set another identical bowl down in front of Misty and I watched as my sister gagged._

_Aunt Sara restrained herself from scowling and said, "Just like I told your sister, Misty, eat it. And don't complain."_

_Misty sighed before doing exactly what I had done and scooped up a large spoonful of the oatmeal and quickly shoved it into her mouth. With the food still souping in her mouth she asked something I couldn't comprehend._

_"Misty!"_

_At my aunt's stern yell, Misty swallowed. "'scuse me. I said, are we still going to the park today?"_

_I pushed my half eaten bowl away and put my elbows up onto the table, letting my head rest in my hands._

_Sara gave me a quick look. "Yes, we will be as soon as you finish with your breakfast."_

_Misty rapidly shoveled the rest of her oatmeal into her mouth, making it spill out onto her chin and the table, and dashed away while wiping at her face._

_My aunt picked up a towel and cleared off the table. She looked up at me worriedly many times as she did so and I watched her continue to clean up Misty's mess. Finally she threw down the towel on the tabletop and faced me. _

_"You promised, Madeline."_

_I rubbed at my nose._

_"I know it's going to be difficult, but..." She trailed off before gathering her words carefully. "I'll be there the whole time. You won't be alone, nothings going to happen."_

_I studied the lines in her face and slowly nodded. Aunt Sara gave me a brilliant grin and ran her fingers through my hair. I let out a low yelp and rubbed my scalp._

_"Maybe you should go and get your comb, I'll get the rats out."_

_*~(~~)~*_

_Absolute unadulterated terror filled me up like an empty glass being overflowed. Everywhere I looked there were unfamiliar faces and penetrating gazes watching me stumble around fearfully. Central Park was a big place. And I was utterly and completely lost and alone inside of it._

_I wasn't quite sure how it happened, but one minute I was grasping aunt Sara's skirt, watching Misty chase after a butterfly, and the next they were nowhere to be seen. I trembled and hugged myself while tears ran down my cheeks. I knew I looked a mess with my red puffy eyes, spit bubbles occasionally coming forth from my lips and snot running out of my nose. I couldn't care less at that exact moment and continued to falter with every step I took._

_They were nowhere. I couldn't see them and I couldn't hear them calling out for me. I found an isolated tree, lost my balance, and landed on my knees next to it. I leaned up against it and drew my knees up to my chest with my arms circling around them. My breath began to become erratic and it started to get harder and harder to breathe. My hands were shaking and I grasped them together. I didn't know how much time had passed. It could have been ten minutes, or even an hour. I released my hands and one rose to my chest and I clenched my shirt between my fingers. It felt like my ribs were going to break open. I screamed in frustration, not thinking that somebody might hear my cries._

_"'ey, ah you'se alright?"_

_Someone had. And it was a male. My eyes were clamped shut and I breathed in short bursts of air. A hand landed on my shoulder and my eyes shot open. Upon seeing the strange teenage boy standing in front of me, I frantically scrambled to get away and landed on my side. My feet kicked out and my hands scratched at the earth beneath me._

_"'ey! S'ok, I'se not gonna 'urt ya. Look, I'se will stay five feet away. S'at ok?"_

_He took four steps back. "See. I'se all da way ovah 'ere. Not gonna touch you'se."_

_I looked up to see him sit down five or six feet away from me. I stared at the dirty faced boy and steadily gasped for air. He set his small stack of newspapers beside him and I noticed the ink staining his fingers. This was one of those newsies from across the street. One of the free thinkers and lovers of life._

_He tilted his head to get the sun out of his eyes and twisted his hat to face forward to shade himself. "Calm down dere, Kitten. No need ta die from loss ah oxygen."_

_His speaking to me didn't help in my quest of calming down. It only increased my panic. He saw the way my eyes shifted back and forth for an escape route and he lifted his hands cautiously. "I'se not lettin' you'se outta 'ere without gettin ya breath back. 'ere, try dis. Close ya eyes."_

_I bit my lip and whimpered._

_"I'se already promised I'se wasn't gonna do nothin to ya's. So close those beautiful green eyes a yoahs and imagine yaself in a...a field or meadow of some sort." My eyes weren't closing. "Well, go on."_

_I slowly closed my eyes and let my fingers dig into the grass and dirt beneath me._

_"Good. Now, ya da only one in dis field. No one else. Ya by yoahself."_

_I could already feel myself calming down by the soft tone of his voice hovering in my ears. His voice wasn't like the rough gravelly one of Robert._

_"Ok, now visualize all a dem gorgeous flowers 'ere in da park. Da pretty pinks, reds, blues and purples. I'se only know a couple of da names; roses, tulips and those, uh, watchamacallits." Here he stopped and mumbled a swear word to himself. "Da point is, peaceful an quiet."_

_He went silent and I listened to the sounds currently taking place in the park. The birds chirping, children screaming as they played, and the laughter of adults taking a walk down the pathway nearby. My breathing slowed and smoothed out into deep even breaths. I opened my eyes and shrunk under the observation of the newsboy in front of me._

_"Da bulls came by 'bout an 'our ago askin anybody if dey'd seen a liddle goil wid strawberry blond 'air. Kinda like yoahs. Woman came screamin aftah dem callin' out da name 'Madeline'. 'ad a smallah goil wid 'er who was yellin out da same name."_

_He stopped to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand and I wiped my nose with my arm at the same time._

_"I'se guessin ya Madeline."_

_I guardedly nodded my head and pulled my knees closer to my chest._

_The teenager glanced around the part of the park we were seated in. "Doesn't look like da cops ah gonna be passin through 'ere any time soon." His eyes refocused on my face. "If you'se stay 'ere at dis tree, I'se pretty shoah dat when dey do come back, dey'll immediately see you'se."_

_He stood back up and shouldered his newspapers. "I'se gonna stay till you'se is safely back wid ya muddah." I made no move to correct his assumption about aunt Sara. He pointed over his shoulder at the spot where he had been recently selling newspapers when he'd first heard my cry. "I'se will be ovah dere sellin. If you'se need anythin, ya come an get me. Alright?"_

_I jerked my head forward and scooted myself back to the tree he had indicated._

_"You'se be careful. I'll be watchin ovah ya's." _

_He went back to his selling spot and yelled out his headlines. For the next two hours he continually checked on me until I finally heard my aunt's frantic calls. I was being rescued from my frightful hell._

* * *

I don't know who that boy was. I never learned his name, and never saw him ever again after that terrible day. But that panic attack I had experienced had been the last one I'd had. I took what that boy said to heart, and imagined myself in my own little comfort place every time I started gasping for breath.

Walking into Tibby's made my imagination disappear. The small diner was packed with people. Quite a few of those people looked up at the sound of the door opening and then went back to their conversations. In an enclosed space like this tiny diner that was filled with unfamiliar strangers made my breath catch and my body tremble in fear. At least out in the streets I could easily get away, but in here, I was cornered.

Racetrack heard the short bursts of air rushing through my mouth and turned from where he was searching for a table. His eyes slightly widened and he grabbed for his cigar. He spun Patches around and the small boy looked up at him, annoyed.

"What?"

Racetrack gestured to me speechlessly. Patches looked at me. His face immediately turned to worry and he snatched at Snipeshooter's arm. Snipeshooter took his time in twisting around and scratched at his cheek when he cast his gaze at Patches and Racetrack. He noticed their wide eyes and his own followed to where their unwavering stare was directed at.

"Oh, jeez."

Oh jeez was right. None of them had absolutely any idea what to do. My breathing was getting more difficult and they were just standing there staring at me. The oldest newsie out of the three finally snapped out of it. He pushed Patches towards the back of the restaurant without taking his eyes off me.

"Go find Misty. And quick."

Patches nodded, gave me a worried look, and then took off weaving in and out of tables and customers that were very slowly taking their attention off of their food and onto us. I could feel my heart beating rapidly against my ribcage and I felt like it would burst out of my chest. A feeling of lightheadedness came about. I swayed on my feet and Snipeshooter grabbed onto my arm to steady me.

"Do something, Race."

"I'se don't know what ta do. What do I'se do?" I could hear the alarm rising in Racetrack's voice.

"I'se don't know either. Misty nevah told us what ta do if she evah did dis." Snipeshooter's usually calm boyish voice was taking on a slight squeak as he started panicking.

"Argh!" Racetrack took his hat off and clenched it in one fist while he was twisting his cigar in his other hand. He pivoted sharply and glared at the bystanders watching us. "Dis ain't no free show! Get back to ya own business!"

Most of Tibby's customers immediately went back to their meals, but continued to steal glances at us every few seconds. One table near the windows to our right paid no mind to Racetrack's announcement and kept watching us with guarded eyes. I was getting dizzy. My hand raised and I grabbed onto the sleeve of Racetrack's shirt as my vision shifted.

"Move, move! Christ, whatsa matter with you? Get out of my way!"

Small soft hands grasped my arms and pulled me past all the tables and towards the back of the restaurant. I heard someone yelling out for Racetrack before I was nudged into a quieter room. Someone propelled me down onto a crate and pushed my head between my legs.

"Hold your breath, Mads. Don't you dare start this up again. I thought you were getting better." Misty. It was my sister whispering to me in a gentle tone of voice. "And you! What in the world is the matter with all of you?"

Misty's voice turned harsh and she started yelling. I lifted my head and caught a glimpse of Snipeshooter, Racetrack, and Patches standing guiltily in front of the swinging door before Misty shoved my head back down. I felt my chest loosen and took one final deep breath before leaning back.

"See! Look at dat. She's bettah now." Racetrack pointed to me with his cigar and Misty knocked it right out of his hand. The teenager scowled at her and kneeled down to pick up the stogie. He dusted it off and analyzed the way it looked before shrugging and sticking it back between his lips.

Patches rushed forward and grabbed a hold of my hand and squeezed it. "Ah you'se ok, Maddie?"

I took another long breath and nodded. I pried his fingers off of my hand and patted his arm. I noticed Snipeshooter and Racetrack kept their distance and I appreciated the gesture of not getting too close right this second.

"You'se gonna be ok dere, Madeline?" Racetrack shifted on his feet as he asked this.

I sighed and nodded again. I hated when aunt Sara and Misty asked me the same thing over and over again. Now they were going to start too.

"Ah, good. 'Cause a couple of da boys ah out dere eatin. Ya mind if I-"

I jabbed my hand towards the doorway when I saw his slight impatience. He grinned at me and lifted his hand towards me. I gently took his dirty hand and quickly shook it. "S'good meetin you'se. 'ey, if you'se remind me'se some day, maybe I'se will teach you'se 'ow ta play pokah. You'se don't know 'ow ta play do ya's?"

I shook my head. Snipeshooter pushed away from Racetrack's side and came to stand by Misty. Racetrack's cheerful face stared back into mine.

"Good." He turned his head towards Misty and he frowned at her. "You'se bettah watch it dere, Misty Eyes. I'se will get you'se back."

Misty shouldered his comment and shrugged it off with a smirk. "Sure you will, Race. Now get out of here."

Racetrack waved her off in annoyance and nodded to the rest of us. I finally looked at the room we were sitting in. It was the restaurant's kitchen. I glanced around the shelves for the chef, but couldn't find the man Misty had mentioned a few times before. My sister noticed my eyes roaming around the area and she tugged on her skirt.

"He's not here right now. I asked him to leave on account of, well, you know."

I dug into my pocket for my notebook and quickly scribbled: I'm fine now.

Misty gave me a calculated look. I gave a slight eye roll and wrote: I'm quite sure, Misty. Besides, the chef needs to get back in here to cook for his customers.

My younger sister sighed and looked at Patches and Snipeshooter. "You two stay here with her for a minute, will ya? I'll be right back."

Misty tugged on my hair and I slapped her hand away. As soon as Misty disappeared through the door, Snipeshooter scooted closer and gave me a hug.

"You'se scared da hell outta us, Mads."

I hugged him back and didn't bother to reprimand him for his language. It was silent for the next few minutes until voices leaked from behind the door and Misty reentered with an older gentlemen. I carefully watched him as he tightly nodded to me and then went about the kitchen gathering ingredients. I continued to watch him out of the corner of my eye as Misty stepped forward towards me and rubbed her hands on her skirt.

"How'd you like to stay in here for a while, Maddie?"

My eyes immediately jumped from the chef, to her, and back.

She watched me with a sad smile and said, "Freddy needs some help once in a while, he's the only cook here most of the week. It will give him a bit of a break. He deserves it."

My gaze cut to Freddy and I noticed that he was mixing something in a bowl very slowly. He was listening in on our conversation. He saw that my eyes were on him and he cleared his throat and started stirring faster. I looked back to Misty and made a movement so small that I was surprised she could even tell it was a nod.

She grinned. "Don't worry, Mads. You'll be fine."

Like I haven't heard that one before.


	4. Trolley Strike Drags on For Third Week

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 4!

**chaoticmom  
Lauren-Rose90  
Sunshie  
Nichole  
Rambles  
Scout-britt  
MushSpotgoil**

(7/9/11)  
**The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Four - Trolley Strike Drags on for Third Week**

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"How would you like to start working here?" were the first words out of Phil's, the owner of Tibby's, mouth after swallowing his first bite of my cooking.

I choked on the water I had been sipping. Misty slapped my back and I coughed into my hand. After I had settled back into my seat on the crate, Phil set the plate and silverware he was holding down onto the counter and interlocked his fingers behind his back.

Snipeshooter and Patches were long gone. They needed to get back to work to make money for papers -and at least one meal tomorrow- and had left an hour and a half before. Both of them gave me a hug and made me promise to not have another panic attack. At least while they weren't there to make sure I was alright afterwards. Misty stayed in the kitchen as Freddy tried to make conversation with me while I watched him gather ingredients to make a chicken soup. This is how it went for ten minutes when Freddy suddenly asked me to make a pie for later in the evening. This was the reason for Phil's words. My apple pie had made an impression on him. My sister took my glass and I twisted my fingers together. I stared towards the floor as I did so. Phil shuffled his feet, and that made me look up at him.

Phil was an older man in his late forties with a balding head of black hair. The apron he was wearing had a couple of food stains on the front of it which made me believe that he didn't just own Tibby's, but that he actually worked hard like the rest of his employees. He was nice enough and hadn't made any indication of fascination towards me other then for my cooking. Freddy, the chef, was the same way.

In fact, right at this moment, Freddy had his eyes closed and he was savoring a fork full of the baked dessert. Freddy wasn't like the usual cooks that I used to see in kitchens and bakeries. No, he had a full head of red, curly hair and freckles spattered all across his nose and cheeks. He was also as skinny as a rail. His arms looked stick thin as they lifted his fork into his mouth and he rolled his eyes up into his head and moaned.

_"Tastes like 'eaven." _

I remembered the words Racetrack had said earlier and bowed my head while my face grew pink. My fingers moved to my shirt sleeves and I pulled them down over my forearms and hands and fiddled with the ends. I looked up at Misty and I groaned up at her pleadingly. My younger sibling pat my hair down and smiled softly up at Phil.

"Do you think she can take a few days to talk it over with our aunt, Mr. Tibby?"

Phil thought this over in his mind for a few minutes and then answered, "Sure, why not. Just make sure you," here he pointed at Misty. "Get back to me with the details if she decides to come back."

Misty nodded and the restaurant owner smiled back at the both of us and left the kitchen with the door swinging behind him. We heard silverware squeaking on a plate and looked over to see Freddy scraping his fork across the ceramics to get the last of the apple pie.

He lifted his fork to his mouth one last time and opened his blue eyes to squint over at us. "I sure hope you come back. I'd love to have a day or two off every once in a while." He set his plate down in the sink and went to rinse both his and Mr. Tibby's dishes. "Even if you're not permanent, come back just to make me one of those pies. They're delicious."

* * *

Two weeks later and here I was, flour up to my elbows, spattered on my forehead and cheeks, and all across the apron I was wearing. With the help of Misty and aunt Sara, and some other outside influences, I decided to take the job Phil Tibby offered me. It was frightening at first to leave with Misty in the morning and then come back to the apartment in the evening, but I got used to it and even grew comfortable around Freddy. Now, by no means was I about to spend a whole entire evening alone with him, but I could stand those one hour intervals before Misty or one of the few waitresses came to check on me. I rarely went out into the dining area and spent most of my time in the kitchen. There were a scarce few times that I did actually go out there and that was only because I was delivering food to people I knew.

Now that I was going to work every day, my aunt let loose sighs randomly during the evenings. She had been just as terrified as I was about me spending the day away from home. Her restlessness the night before my first day of work left me with no sleep and I was exhausted in the morning. She finally relaxed a few days later after coming into the diner and meeting with Phil, Freddy, and even Racetrack because he butted into her and Misty's conversation.

Ah, Racetrack. After finding out that I was now working at Tibby's, he came in every day to see if I could scrape up the food for him that I had cooked. He wanted nothing to do with whatever Freddy had made. No, all he wanted was leftovers of the meals I cooked and the desserts I created. Along with bringing his desire for what he calls _'Da most mouthwaterin' food anybody will evah taste,_' and his unending appetite, he gathered a few more newsies to share the deliciousness with him.

Skittery was the first one to sulk through the doorway behind the short Italian. When I originally first saw him, he looked like somebody had just shot his puppy. He was silent when I took a seat across from him and next to Racetrack during my break a couple days into my new job. Skittery was almost as quiet as me. The only way I knew that he even talked was because the last ten minutes before they had to head back out to hawk headlines, he started in on the one-sided conversation Racetrack was having with me and added in his own comments.

Crutchy was next. A few days after the first meeting with Skittery, he hobbled in after them and pulled up a chair at their regular table. He was oddly cheerful when I delivered Racetrack the mornings leftovers for lunch and handed Skittery a glass of soda. He had asked how my day had been going and then politely wondered if I could bring him a glass of soda also. I acted civil and stepped around his crutch, almost tripping over it, to the back.

Pie Eater was the last one for me to meet. He had overheard Skittery and Crutchy discussing my baking skills and decided that he needed to come and test it out for himself. He had come running in five minutes after the others had arrived and demanded to taste the pie I had made for the day. I was in the back while he was giving his demands and it was only when I had finally come out with Racetrack's food could I hear Misty yelling at him. She ordered him to sit down and he easily complied with seating himself next to Skittery. When meeting me he froze up, glanced at the food I was setting down in front of Racetrack, and then immediately asked for pie. Every other day after that he'd come in with his last newspaper and trade it with me for a piece of whatever pie I had made that day.

Today it was blueberry. I'd managed to convince Freddy to go to the market to find the best blueberries that he could before coming in to work. He didn't need much convincing after I wrote down the recipe for him, because the night before he was supposed to get them, he grinned brightly and whistled on his way out the door.

The back room of the kitchen was warm because of the fire in the oven and so every time I wiped at my forehead to get the sweat off, I rubbed more and more flour onto my face. I quickly checked on the pie in the oven and turned my head to sneeze.

"Are you ok, Mads? Not getting sick are you?"

I lifted my hand and motioned for her to wait and then paused. My nose scrunched and I bent my head to sneeze again. I rubbed my nose on my shoulder and raised my head. Misty stood holding a tub full of dirty dishes near the sink and was staring at me with a concerned look. I shook my head at her and went to wash my hands.

"If you're sure." She dumped the plates and glasses into the soapy water. She turned abruptly and eyed me. "And just so you know, those hooligans are waiting out there for their food. Racetrack's getting antsy."

My eyes widened and I dashed across the kitchen to get my notepad.

How long have they been out there?

I tossed it at her and she scrambled to catch it. She finally got a grip on it and straightened up while reading it. She shrugged her shoulders and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, only about...let's see...ten minutes."

I glowered at her. She knew how impatient some of those newsies could get. This was not including Crutchy who would stay in there all day just to get a glass of soda. I swiftly pushed past her and to the stove to check on the pie. It was done. I pulled it out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool for a few minutes before turning back to get the plate of breakfast foods I had saved for Racetrack. I slapped Misty's hand as she reached for the plate and she glared at me while cradling the injured limb to her chest.

I raised my eyebrows at her and she did nothing but scoff at me and go back to her dishes. I cut the pie and put a piece on a dessert plate. I grabbed for a few rolls and dropped them into a small basket. After gathering up the plates, sodas, and silverware, I exhaled slowly and pushed the swinging door open. I looked across the restaurant to where the newsies' regular table was, but found an elderly couple sharing a private moment instead.

"Ovah here, Mads!"

I pivoted on my feet and saw the teenagers stuffed in a booth across the room. Skittery was the one who called to me and he was standing on his feet leaning over the table and waving me over. I skirted around occupied chairs and waiters and waitresses and made it to their table with little trouble. I set the basket down on the middle of the table and the rest was quickly taken out of my hands.

"I'se starvin!" Racetrack announced before thrusting a fork full of food into his mouth. He didn't bother swallowing before he continued. "What took so long?"

I timidly wrung my fingers into the bottom of my apron. I looked back and forth between the boys at the table and finally Pie Eater shoved Racetrack into the wall he was sitting next to. "Leave 'er alone."

Racetrack gave Pie Eater an angry stare before softening his look as his eyes moved to me. "Sahrry, Madeline. Probably wasn't even ya fault, was it?"

I shook my head. Pie Eater squished Racetrack into the wall, scooted closer to him, and then gestured to the empty booth space that was now open next to him. I gathered my skirt together and sat down next to him. He reached across the table and stole the newspaper Crutchy had been looking through and handed it over to me. Crutchy just smiled at me and took one of the rolls from the table. I briefly glanced through the paper, noticing that the Trolley Strike was now dragging on into the third week, and then folded the paper up and set it on my lap.

I listened to the conversation between the four of them and occasionally nodded or shook my head as a question was directed at me. I stole a sip of Pie Eater's soda as they mentioned a kid named David and his younger brother Les.

"Shoah didn't know what 'e was doin dis mornin did 'e?" Racetrack said as he ran the sleeve of his shirt over his mouth.

Skittery leaned his head against his fist and fidgeted in his seat. "Nah, 'e didn't. Only took a handful a papes when 'e bought 'em."

"S'matter wid 'im?" Pie Eater asked.

Racetrack rolled his eyes and let his fork clatter to his plate. "'e's one a dem school boys. Doesn't 'ave any clue as to what 'e's doin."

Crutchy, who had been fussing with his crutch, looked up when Racetrack said this. "Hey now. It's his first day. He'll get bettah wid time."

The Italian seemed to be thinking about this before he finally agreed. Pie Eater took his soda out of my hands and drained it. He smacked his lips and grinned at me. I reached across the table for Skittery's and he acknowledged that I was taking it from him. After taking a couple sips he held his hand back for it. I gave it to him as he asked, "Any idea 'ow it's goin' wid Jack teachin' 'im and 'is bruddah?"

"Saw 'em bout an hour ago. Cowboy said dey was doin alright. Said 'e was takin 'em ta da matches." Pie Eater answered through a mouthful of pie.

Crutchy frowned. "Is Jack shoah it's ok ta be bringin dat kid wid 'im ta one a those? Those boxin' matches can be priddy violent."

Racetrack burped into his hand and glanced around Pie Eater at me before saying, "Twiggy does it all da time and nothins 'appened ta 'im yet."

Misty took that moment to appear at the edge of our table. "Ok, ya bums. It's time for you to get going, you're scaring off potential customers."

Crutchy immediately started to stand and Misty helped him up. He thanked her and adjusted his crutch under his arm. He turned back to the table and gave a look to the rest of us still sitting. Racetrack heaved an annoyed sigh and started pushing against Pie Eater. Pie Eater in turn nudged me until I scooted out of the booth to let them out at the same time Skittery stood up across from me. Racetrack tugged on my apron and started to light up a cigarette. Misty slapped his hand away.

"I don't think so, Higgins. Get out of here before you light that."

Racetrack glared daggers at her. "One a these days, Misty Eyes. One a these days. Jus' you'se wait an see."

"Sure, sure. I can't wait till that day comes," she mocked him. "But until then, get out."

Racetrack smirked at her and waved goodbye to me. "I'se going to Sheepshead, wish me luck, Madeline."

I saluted him and he chuckled at me before leaving. Pie Eater did the same as Racetrack and thanked me for the blueberry pie and he walked out the diner. Crutchy made for the door but turned and made Skittery's tall frame stumble to a halt behind him. I stopped from where I had started to help Misty clean up the table and looked over at him calling my name.

"Twiggy wanted me ta tell you'se dat he won't be able ta come by tanight. Said his muddah's got plans for da family."

I nodded my thanks to him and had to turn back once again when Skittery called for me. He shrugged at my pointed look and slid his hands into his pockets. "Jus' wanted to tell you'se dat I'se will be back later."

I waved him off and he quickly exited Tibby's.

* * *

Later that night, after the diner had slowed and Phil was starting to close up, I hung up my apron on a hook in the small coat closet in the kitchen. I picked up my notepad from the spot I had last left it and went into the dining area to try and find Misty. She was finishing with cleaning up one last table and when she saw me she tossed down her apron into the tub and carried it past me.

"Give me just a sec, Mads. I'll be right out."

I nodded and crossed the room to stand next to the window. I stared outside at the almost empty street and sighed. I was becoming comfortable with being outside during the night and I think it had something to do with the fact that Misty and I had at least one of our newsie friends escorting us home every evening. We don't have to walk alone and defenseless anymore under the stars. I could hear Misty arguing with Freddy about something and figured that she was almost ready to leave. I looked out the window and glanced both ways down the street. Skittery hadn't arrived yet.

"Just say thank you, young lady, and get out of here."

I twisted my head around and saw that Freddy had followed Misty and continued to follow her as she weaved between tables. She was carrying a large basket like the one aunt Sara used to hold all her sewing supplies and it tipped back and forth as she moved.

"Don't spill that Misty." Freddy sternly said while pointing at her when she came to a stop next to me. "And tell your aunt, since I know she's going to want you to say thank you for her, that she's welcome."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir. I'll make sure she gets the message." She tugged the basket further up her arm and turned to me. "Let's go, Mads."

She walked to the door and called to Phil to come unlock it. I glanced outside again to see if Skittery had arrived. He still hadn't made an appearance and I didn't want to leave without him there to walk us home. Phil was holding the door open and Misty was already standing outside waiting for me. I quickly shook my head and took a step away from the door.

"Come on, Maddie." Misty called. "Even if he's not here yet, he'll meet us on the way."

I took another step back. Freddy ran a hand over his face and Phil jangled his keys in his hand impatiently. The owner of the restaurant let his keys fall into his apron pocket.

"Madeline, I need to close this door," Phil told me. "And your aunt is expecting you at home."

After refusing to leave once again, Phil had Freddy hold the door open and he took a step closer to me. This was what I was afraid of.

"Madeline, I' m not going to hurt you. No one's going to hurt you, but you need to leave. I need to lock up."

Misty looked through the doorway confused. "Don't do anything, Mr. Tibby. You're going to scare her even more then she already is."

I pointed at Misty and nodded my head.

"Misty, she can't stay here. Both you and her need to get home."

I took this small amount of time to chance a glance out the window. A shadowy figure was walking down the cobblestoned street. Their lanky form was slouched and something lit up quickly before dimming down. He was finally here.

I scurried past the two males and Misty and hurried towards Skittery. He let his cigarette fall to the ground and scuffed his shoe over the top of it. "C'mon, Mist, let's getcha 'ome."

I glanced over my shoulder as I reached Skittery's side to see Phil raising his hands in defeat and Freddy shrugging his shoulders. Misty grinned at them and pulled the basket farther up her shoulder. She skipped forwards and I could see Freddy wince through the window as the precious cargo she was carrying tipped dangerously to the side.

"I'se think we can catch da last trolley of da night if we'se 'urry." I could feel Skittery's hand faintly rest on my back, pushing me forward. "We'se don't wanna be out latah den usual."

Misty's hand grasped mine and my arm jerked as she tried to skip at the pace we were walking. The big, wicker basket jumped with every step she took and she had to keep pulling it further up her shoulder as it kept falling back down her curved arm. Skittery looked over the top of my head to look at her.

"What's dat?"

"Our supper."

"Den why ah you'se jerkin it 'round like dat?"

Misty shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."

Skittery sighed and shortly pulled me to a stop. Misty didn't notice our stop and she continued to skip forward. With her hand still grasping mine, it wrenched my arm away from my body. My sister looked back at us and frowned.

"We need to catch the trolley."

Skittery tugged the basket out of her hands. "Yeah, we'se do, but if you'se keep trippin' 'round like dat den ya not gonna 'ave any suppah ta eat tanight. Then ya won't hafta worry bout takin da trolley evah again cause ya aunt's gonna kill ya's."

Misty scowled at him and Skittery just raised an eyebrow at her. "Ya got somethin' ta say?"

"No." She mumbled. "Nothing at all. Let's go."

We finally made it back to the apartment building in front of the Lodging House. Skittery handed me the basket, telling me that he didn't trust Misty to hold it. My sister sat on the stoop looking up at the stars as the newsboy held me back for a moment longer.

"I'se not gonna be able ta come tamorrow. Didn't make enough money taday ta even buy a coke. I'se need it fah papes."

I nodded understandably and patted his arm. He smiled down at me and started walking backwards to the front steps where he lived. "Racetrack will be in though, of course. 'e's got 'is ways of trickin Weasel inta spottin 'im papes. Pie Eatah's 'ad 'is dose for da next couple days and Crutchy's gotta come in ta see ya smilin face. So, you'se won't be completely 'lone."

I exhaled as he disappeared through the door to the Lodging House. I stood a moment longer watching the shadows move behind the windows across the street before twirling around. Misty's eyes were glazed over as she stared up into the night sky. I set the basket down on the step below her and nervously sat on one two above her. I glanced at the nearly empty street before looking back at my younger sibling.

"Can't see the stars very well in the city," she whispered. Her head lowered to rest on my knees and I ran my fingers through her hair. She licked her lips and continued on. "Remember how Papa used to sit out on the porch with us at night and map out all the stars. I don't remember much cause I was so young, but I still see him teaching us every now and then."

I stayed silent.

"You can kinda see the big dipper," she voiced softly. Her head lifted and she pointed to the sky. "Look, you can see the handle to it."

She turned to see if I had looked and I flicked the end of her nose. I smiled down at her. We both jumped as a male voice suddenly rose above the quiet sounds of the city.

"'ey!"

We looked up to the building across the street. Racetrack was hanging out one of the windows and I could see a few other unknown boys watching him carefully to make sure he didn't fall out.

"Would ya both get inside! Ya aunt's gonna 'ave a fit if ya's don't walk through dat door in da next few minutes. I'se can see 'er from 'ere and she's pacin' up a storm."

Simultaneously, the two of us turned to look up at the building our aunt was currently residing in.

"Argh!"

We looked back over at Racetrack.

"Like ya gonna be able ta see 'er from dere! Get inside!" He dangerously leaned forward as he yelled.

My eyes widened at the sight and I reached down for my notepad. After quickly jotting something down I shoved it into Misty's face and she struggled to read it in the dark.

"Maddie wants me to tell you that... Hold on a second... That you need to get back to whatever nasty gambling addiction you ha-Ow!"

I had jabbed her in the side.

"You'se were saying, Misty Eyes?"

I nudged her and she cleared her throat before continuing to read. "Maddie wants you to get back inside before you fall out and become another case that the police decide to write off as suicide cause you're one of them dirty street bums."

I poked her. "Ok that last bit was me."

I could practically feel the warmth radiating off of Racetrack's faraway grin from where we were sitting.

"At least somebody cares fah me."

Somebody yelled something behind him that sounded like, "I'se care fah ya Racetrack. You'se and dat short Italian body a yoah's."

Misty giggled as she got the gist of what was muffled.

Racetrack turned and sent that person a rude hand gesture and laughter filtered out through the open window. He disappeared into the room and yelled something unintelligible. The laughter was prolonged and Racetrack's form filled the window again.

"Thanks, Madeline! I'se will see you'se tamorrow. Misty Eyes... Put a lid on it."

He left the window and my sister and I stood up from the stoop steps. I reached down to pick up the basket and entered the apartment building behind Misty, both of us with smiles on our faces.


	5. Da newsies is goin on strike

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 5!

**Nichole  
LivingByWill**

(7/9/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Five - Da newsies is goin on strike**

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Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly was sitting in Tibby's restaurant. How did I know this? Because Misty was spending most of her time busing the tables nearby where he sat and inconspicuously staring at him out of the corner of her eye. I stood on my tiptoes watching her in amusement through the small window on the swinging door that lead to the kitchen. Freddy had no clue what I was doing and was giving me funny looks. I paid him no mind and continued to spy on the booth that Mr. Kelly sat at.

Next to the newsboy sat a small adolescent boy scooping up his soup and slurping it down. Occasionally the tiny being looked up and added something in to the conversation going on in front of him. Across the table was a teenager who looked the same age as Jack. He had dark curly hair and was wearing a blue shirt that, from what I could see, brought out the bright color of his eyes. I frowned at the back of the head that sat at the edge of the table. I couldn't tell who it was sitting with their back to me, but he looked familiar. I leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse. My hands pushed against the door and it started to swing forward. Freddy caught the back of my shirt as I started to fall out into the room where at least twenty people were enjoying their lunch. I shyly smiled over my shoulder at the chef and he shook his head and went back to the orders he was currently taking care of.

I turned back to the window and blinked as the man in the brown vest handed the boy in the blue shirt a business card. Why would he have a card? I watched as the man stood and while continuing on with the conversation he was having, he turned to let Phil set his suit coat over his arms and shoulders. Bryan Denton. I'd read his article on the war in Cuba last year, and it had been a very good one. If I hadn't been frightened of all the people out in that room, and of him, I would have rushed out there and shook his hand. He was one of my favorite reporters who worked for the New York Sun, and with me usually getting the World newspaper, I didn't get to read his stories very often.

Jack Kelly gave one last call to the reporter and Denton returned with a nod and went to leave the restaurant. Racetrack came in just as he was leaving and the two bumped into each other and quickly gave apologies. The newsie dodged a waiter with a tray full of food and scanned the tables and booths. I watched as Jack called his name and Racetrack hastily made his way over to where they were sitting. He settled in next to the boy with the dark hair and started making wild gestures. He paused in his small rant as Misty stalked near their table and he pulled on her rolled up sleeve. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and I could hear the sound of muffled dishes in the tub she was carrying clank as they smashed together.

I saw Jack smirk as he listened to the two argue and the other older boy jumped as Misty slammed the tub down onto their table. I nervously looked for Phil and saw he was busy with a customer across the room and hadn't looked to see what the commotion was about. My sister took off towards where the kitchen was while wiping her hands on her apron angrily. Before I had to jump back from her shoving the door open, I caught Racetrack's smug look as he turned back to the other three at his table.

"Your underprivileged friend demands he get his food," Misty sneered as she spat the words at me.

I raised an eyebrow and reached for my notepad. What did he say to you?

"I don't want to tell you," she growled out.

Why not?

"Cause you'll go out there and slap him and then feel guilty for doing it later. No need for that."

I furrowed my brow and flipped the pad shut. I pulled open the oven door and reached for a hot pad to get Racetrack's plate of food. I quickly set it down on the counter to cool for a few seconds and turned to get his glass of soda. When I went back to gather the plate up on a tray with the soda, I took notice to the amount of food on the plate. I stared at it blankly and tilted my head. Was there less food on the plate then there had been previously? Misty covered up a cough and I suddenly had an idea as to what had happened.

She shrugged and looked up at me innocently. "S'not my fault the food suddenly walked off the plate, across the counter -off the counter in fact- and into the garbage. Guess it didn't want Racetrack's grimy fingers all over it."

I frowned at her and heaved a sigh.

She picked up the plate and set it down on the tray I was holding. I instantly put my other hand under it so it wouldn't tip and fall over.

"He should be grateful for any food that he gets from you anyways." She irritably pulled on her apron and then grabbed for the soda to put it on also. "Now get out there before he decides to start shrieking for you and disturbs the customers."

I started for the door and paused next to it. Looking over my shoulder at her, she saw me hesitate and rolled her eyes.

"Fine I'll come with. I need to get my dish tub anyways."

I smiled at her and let her lead the way through the door. We slid around tables and a couple people leaving before Racetrack had a clear view of us.

"'ey, Madeline!"

The two older boys turned to see who he was calling to and the smaller boy barely paid us any attention as we reached the edge of the table. The chair Bryan Denton had been sitting on was placed at another table and Misty's tub had been dropped onto the floor. My sister grumbled under her breath and she stooped down to pick it back up.

She scowled at Racetrack and let him give another smirk around his cigar before she threw a few of their empty dishes into the tub. I held the edge of the tray against my body and watched as she suddenly had a mood change and beamed a bright smile at Jack. Her smiley look didn't last long and she was once again back to glaring at Racetrack.

"Make sure they behave," she warned. She gave me a wary look and left to clean off more tables.

He waved her off as if she were an annoying fly and reached for me. I laid his plate directly in front of him and the glass of soda was put down soon after. I let my arms fold over the now empty tray across my chest and cautiously watched the males sitting leisurely at the table. I uneasily stood there until someone finally spoke.

"My names David Jacobs, and you are?" The boy in blue asked as he abruptly sat up, his hand shooting forward. I jumped backwards and he looked at me worriedly. Racetrack slapped his hand down.

"S'ok Madeline, he's not gonna hurtcha." He scowled at David, as if the teen should have already known I didn't like to be touched by people I didn't know.

David cleared his throat uncomfortably and he waved a hand to the other side of the table. "That's my younger brother Les." The small boy looked up from his food to grin at me. "And you already know Jack, right?"

I shook my head. David looked back and forth from Racetrack, to Jack (who was smiling softly my way), to me. "Then how do you know Racetrack?"

I shuffled on my feet. He apparently thought everyone who knew a newsie had to personally know Cowboy. I took my eyes off the people and stared at the items on the table. Jack Kelly definitely needed a refill. I gestured towards his glass and he immediately lifted it up and leaned over the table so I could take it from his grasp. After getting a good grip on it, I hurried off to the back to get him his refill. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the three of them were now leaning in to the center of the table and Racetrack raised a finger at David. I was near enough to hear what was said but far enough away to not be caught dropping any eves.

"Keep ya 'ands ta yaself would ya. She don't like bein' touched."

Jack scratched at his face. "Dat's obviously Misty Eyes' sistah, ain't it?"

"I'se guessin you'se 'eard all da gory details from Skittery?" Racetrack replied with a mouthful of toast.

His friend nodded. "'eard about it and didn't like da sound of it. 'ow could somethin' like dat 'appen ta someone so innocent lookin' like her."

I turned my back on them quickly because they suddenly looked over at me with that statement. I waited an extra minute before slowly turning back around. They were looking at each other now and David looked like he was going to interrupt their brief silence.

"Don't worry bout it, Davey," Jack said before the boy could speak. "I'se will tell you'se latah." His eyes moved back to Racetrack. "Skitts didn't mention dat she don't talk much."

"I'd noticed that." I could barely hear David mumble.

Racetrack gave a short-lived glare in his direction and answered the other newsie. "It's a cause of da thing, you know, what 'appened. She don't talk at all." Jack nodded understandably and took a bite of his sandwich. "If she wants ta talk ta you'se, she will."

David looked extremely uncomfortable because it seemed he wanted to add his own input into he conversation. He finally burst. "If she doesn't talk how can she talk to us?"

Racetrack rolled his eyes towards the other boy and set his fork down. "'ave you'se evah talked ta a mute person before, Davey?"

"No," David answered slowly.

"If she wants ta talk she'll write it down." Here he made a motion with his hands as if he was writing on paper in the air. "Dat's 'ow she _talks_. Jeez, and 'ere I'se thought you'se was smart."

Jack laughed and I decided I had spent enough time away from the table getting his drink. I put the tray in a safe place where nobody would trip over it with the rest of the ones not being used and headed off back to their table. As I approached I heard Racetrack laugh out one more thing. "Yeah, she won't talk round strangers, but I'se can't get 'er ta shut up round me."

I gave the smallest expression of friendliness as I reached their table and they looked up at me. I gave a pointed look at the Italian and he sheepishly took another bite of his food.

"Sahrry, Madeline, but you'se knows it's true. 'ere, shove ovah, Davey." Racetrack elbowed David in the side to push him over and there was now a free seat next to Racetrack. I quickly sat down and the silence was a very agonizing thing to be put through with three people I didn't know. David cleared his throat again and Les was sipping at his soup and staring at me.

I couldn't hide behind my hair because I had it up in a bun. With that glazed over look in his eyes, I didn't think he was actually looking at me. It was as if I wasn't even there. Jack reached towards me and I shifted back uneasily.

"Sahrry, but you'se is holdin' my drink 'ostage." He grinned at me and I slid the glass around an empty bowl towards him. He looked back over at Racetrack. "What did Midtown say?"

Racetrack clenched his hand around his fork. "Shreddah ain't gonna do anythin' till either 'is distributah suddenly decides ta up da price, or till Brooklyn 'as made its decision."

I glanced around the table and then the restaurant before settling my gaze onto the citizens of New York walking beyond the window.

I heard Jack sigh before he spoke. "I'se is headin' cross da bridge wid Davey 'ere and Boots tamorrow."

I looked over at him at the mention of the dark skinned boy. I heard Les grumble something under his breath as Racetrack took one last gulp of his drink and said, "I'se is bettin you'se my best deck ah cards dat Spot's already 'eard all about it. Yeah?"

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and I saw David tense up out of the corner of my eye. The young man wearing the black cowboy hat ran his fingers through his hair and leaned his elbows onto the table. "He's definitely probably already 'eard about it. And I'se is gonna get it big time when I'se get dere tamorrow." He paused and then went off that certain subject. "'ave you'se 'eard anythin' from da othah boroughs?"

I had been observing the behavior of the males sitting at the same table I was sitting at and it didn't look good. The older boys were tense with some sort of burden resting on their shoulders. I felt that if they didn't get rid of it soon, they'd start hunching over from the weight of it. They hadn't even given me any kind of clue as to what they were talking about and each of them, besides Les, who hadn't really said much, were skirting around what the main subject was about. I'd have to catch a newsie I was more comfortable with, one who was alone, and get all the information on what was going on.

Racetrack shook his head and quickly glanced at me before putting his attention back to Jack. "Nah, ain't 'eard a single thing. Crutchy should be in wid Twiggy though, soon. 'e's gotta come an see dis 'ere young lady fore 'e can get ta sleep tanight ta keep da bad dreams away."

The Italian nudged me in the side and I knew my face gained a slight tinge of pink.

"I'se do mean Twig's ah course."

I heard small chuckles come from the table.

"Madeline?" I heard a soft voice call my name and I surprisingly looked across the table to see Les with his eyes on my face, focusing above my eyes. "Where'd you get that scar?"

"Les!" David acted embarrassed for his brothers sake.

My finger smoothed over the scar above my eyebrow and I smiled gently at Les. I shrugged my shoulders and tapped at the table. He didn't seem to understand that I had no problems with his question other then that I didn't really want to answer it. Racetrack understood though, and told Les that it was just a scar from an old fall.

"Adds ta 'er beauty though, don't it?"

Les shyly nodded and I quickly stood up. I straightened my skirt while listening to Racetrack's laughter.

"Couldn't 'elp it, Madeline. 'ad ta say it, nobody else evah does. Every girl needs somethin' like dat said ta 'er on a daily basis. Ya no exception."

I decided that I had had enough of the conversation and started piling up the dirty dishes on their table. Jack stretched his arms up and I heard Les give an exhausted sigh.

"Well, we'se need ta get 'ome if we'se is gonna make da trek ta Brooklyn tamorrow," the Cowboy said as he gently pushed Les out of the booth. I stepped away from the table and felt the edge of one from behind me reach the backs of my thighs.

Racetrack also stood to let David out. "Gonna take you'se all mornin to make it ovah dere, ain't it?"

"If we leave early enough in the morning we should be back late afternoon." David stated. He pulled on his brothers shoulder to keep him from wandering off.

Racetrack nodded. He turned to me and said, "I'se is gonna leave with dem if it's all right?"

I merely blinked at him. He rolled his eyes at me with a soft smirk. "Sahrry fa wantin ya input on if you'se wanted me ta stay or not."

I lifted a shoulder in response and shifted away as Jack passed me to leave. He smiled and lifted his hat onto his head, tipping it towards me as he went. "C'mon boys, let's leave 'er ta get some work done."

I apprehensively smiled and tilted my head towards at him. David snatched Les' arm and nervously smiled at me before shuffling between a waiter and my sister, who had suddenly decided to make an appearance with her dish tub.

Racetrack caught me unawares and patted my arm. I jerked it back and apologized with my eyes. He took no offense and said, "I'se will make shoah Pie Eatah's 'ere latah-"

"Make sure he's here in about an hour," Misty quickly interrupted. "We're going home early today to cook for aunt Sara."

Racetrack acknowledged her words. "Kay, I'se will make shoah 'e's 'ere in bout an 'ours time." He took a peek out the window onto the bright sunlit street. "Should still be light out, only jus' gettin' dark. You'se will be fine."

I looked to see what he was looking at as he still stood in front of us and saw Jack motioning him to hurry up from the other side of the window. Racetrack waved at him and turned back to me and my sister. "Just warnin you'se dat Crutchy might not make it in if you'se is leavin early. Mind if I'se tell 'im 'e'll jus see you'se tamorrow or somethin?"

I exchanged a look with Misty and she replied, "No. Just please make sure he gets that little message before he comes stumbling in here to see us and finds us already gone."

* * *

An hour later Pie Eater showed up outside Tibby's and we said our quick goodbyes to the staff inside the restaurant. He tugged on the leather cord around his neck as we greeted him. He was mostly silent on the way back to the street the three of us lived on. Misty and I exchanged numerous worrisome looks as he would all of a sudden start whistling a merry tune and then break back into silence just at quickly with a frown on his face.

We reached the courtyard where the Horace Greeley statue sat and I glimpsed an employee from the distribution office up on the ledge where the board of newspaper front headlines was firmly fixated against the office building. Half of the writing that had been up this morning had suddenly disappeared and only bits and pieces of the header was readable.

'BLOODY...TROLLEY...and VENEZUELA RAIDS' – Were the only things I could read. The rest had either been erased or the large letters of 'RIKE' was over the top of the words. I froze in the street and watched the man continue to wave his arm back and forth across the chalkboard and the letters started to disappear.

Misty and Pie Eater turned back when they finally took notice that I was not with them. The both of them surveyed what I was looking at and Pie Eater grinned. I gave a confused look up at the board and the newsboy locked his fingers together behind his head. He nudged us to start walking with his elbows and glanced one more time back at the chalkboard.

"The newsies is goin on strike."

This can't be good.


	6. Dirty Rotten Scabbahs

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 6!

**smallncrazy91  
Nichole  
LivingByWill  
Rambles  
Lizzerella  
0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**

(7/9/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Six - Dirty Rotten Scabbahs**

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Being outside under the sweltering heat of the sun was not how I planned my day off. It was one of the first few free days that I had been given by Phil Tibby and it wasn't intended to be spent next to the Horace Greeley statue surrounded by strangers. I had been lured out with the promise of being taught poker – which, by the way, only lasted fifteen minutes – before one of Racetrack's friends grew frustrated with me and quit in the middle of the previously mentioned gambler's explanation of what a royal flush was (for the third time). The game soon ended after Snoddy – at least that's what I think his name was – threw down his cards and the crowd that had gathered dispersed, to my intense relief.

The sun beat down from above and I knew my face was red from the heat because Twiggy, the curious emaciated looking (his limbs literally looked like twigs) little boy that he was, asked if I was doing alright. It seemed that I looked like I was going to pass out at any second because of suffering from a heat sickness of some sort. I did indeed feel very warm due to the clothes I was wearing. My cream colored blouse had a few buttons undone and the sleeves were rolled up as high as they could go and the undershirt under it was pretty much soaked with perspiration. My hair was gathered at the top of my head to get it off my back and I shivered with each much needed breeze that blew over the sweat, instantly cooling it, on the back of my neck. The gray colored skirt I was wearing would be pulled farther and farther up my legs, my fingers grasping the material tightly, but soon it started inching its way back down. I was given many interesting looks because of the dark trousers rolled halfway up my shins that were being shown.

It was one of the hottest days of the year, and although there were many, this one was the hottest, and I still refused to leave the apartment without wearing something underneath my skirt. Several times I was told, rather then asked, to sit down on the bench beneath the scarce shade of a small tree. I finally agreed after growing tired of blocking the wooden sword attacks from Les and Patches and seated myself next to Skittery on the shaded bench. He handed over my sketch pad and I twisted myself on the bench to face him.

For the next twenty minutes he sat still without having to be asked as I drew the sulky look on his face. I frowned down at the shading I did on his right cheek and bent my head to erase it. He moved a fraction of an inch, but his arms were still crossed across his chest and his hat was still low over his closed eyes. If he hadn't started fidgeting I would have believed he was taking a nap.

My brow furrowed as Skittery started moving more and more. I couldn't take it and finally slapped my sketch pad onto my lap. His eyes opened at the sharp noise and looked over at me. I made a wide gesture towards where a group of newsies was standing and talking.

He sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and a small smile graced his face where his brooding one had just been. "Sahrry, Mads, I'se needs ta move."

I rolled my eyes at him and once again waved my hand to where Jack was conversing with David. Skittery jumped from his seat and started towards them with his shoulders hunched. I looked back down at my picture of him and flipped to a new, clean page. My eyes rose from the paper and I studied Jack.

His arms were waving back and forth and his fingers were constantly reaching up to run through his wavy hair. From where I was sitting I could see his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight and they were staring at David with a new found interest. I could remember all those times my sister came home spouting off facts about a boy called 'Cowboy' who would one day become her husband, even if it took all of her life to reach that goal. She was always telling me how intelligent and handsome he was. Everything he ever said or did Misty repeated to me with vivid words that I didn't know she even knew the meanings of. After being in the presence of Jack for the last few days, I came to believe the words my sister had diligently spoke to me were true. I also came to the conclusion that he was a softy at heart. He put on a hard outer layer from living on the streets and to take care of the newsboys in his lodging house, but I knew from the things he said to me that he was a gentle person.

He was the one to come and tell me that Crutchy had been put into the Refuge. After being told what the Refuge was I almost went down there to see him myself and make sure he was alright. Jack reassured me that he had been over there just a night or two ago and had talked to him himself. He explained how the Refuge worked in minimal detail and I could immediately tell he was keeping some of those factors to himself so I wouldn't be inclined to have a word with this 'Snyder' man on how he ran his jail for kids. He didn't want to me know what was going on and what had really happened to Crutchy. He didn't need to, I could figure out all on my own that something bad had taken place.

Now I was constantly worried about the well being of the disabled teenager. Jack's words of comfort hadn't really put my mind at ease, but they had at least let me know he was being fed. At least I hoped he was.

I sighed and looked down at the picture that was taking form before my eyes. Jack had his right hand twined into his hair and his mouth closed into a tight line. David was leaning against the Horace Greeley statue with his left arm over the top of the base of it, looking like he was in the middle of an explanation. Many other bodies were only slightly sketched onto the paper and they didn't have any detail just yet.

My parents were the ones who got me interested in art in the first place. When I was younger, a time when my father was alive, our lives were much more happier. There was actual love in our small household and nothing even close to fear was ever shown. I was about five and it was just the three of us, Misty only being recently conceived. I used to color things that never really had any significance, small circles that would turn into a misshapen sun or what I liked to believe were cats and dogs. My mother would whisper encouraging words into my ear, telling me that I was getting better every day.

My father would always joke and say, "One day you're going to be so good, you'll sell your drawings, make tons of money, and leave us here in this old rundown shack. Someday, you're going to be famous."

I was only a little girl and I giggled whenever I was told this. He was the person, besides my mother, that I drew the most. It was from memory, so most of the time I forgot the shape of his eyes or added more frown lines then he originally had. I thought about his words often and was disappointed that they hadn't come true.

"Someday, you're gonna be famous."

I jumped when I realized Twiggy was leaning over my sketch pad with his small hands fisted against his knees. His dark blue eyes were curiously roaming over the page and his thin finger suddenly jabbed onto the paper.

"S'at me?"

He was referring to the spot where I had added his skinny form next to where Racetrack was shuffling his deck of cards while talking with somebody I was told named Snitch. I nodded and made a curved line that became the edge of his hat, which was currently placed on his head sideways. I added his wide eyes and set the pad down onto my lap. He plopped down next to me and reached for my sketch pad. I silently handed it over and let him steal the dull pencil from my grasp. Before he could start making random lines, I flipped the page. He barely looked back up at me and started drawing something that only he would be able to tell what it was from his imagination.

There was a ruckus suddenly rising from in front of the World Distribution Center. I craned my neck just in time to see the Manhattan newsboys jumps aside as a horse drawn mail cart barreled through the crowd.

I heard Racetrack yell out something about grafters crossing a line and took notice to the small group of newsies standing in front of the Center's gates with stacks of newspapers in their arms. I frowned at them and worriedly glanced from them to where my friends were standing. I peeked at where the sun was located and estimated that it was already some time after noon. That would mean the afternoon addition of the World was, as of this moment, being handed out to newsies that were still making an attempt at selling.

Misty scurried over from where she had been standing beside Les and turned back to the fight that was about to take place when she reached me. Phil had also given her the day off to do what she wanted, and she had helped in dragging me away from the apartment.

"Somethings going to happen, Maddie. And I don't think it's going to be good."

I wrung my hands together and kept switching my gaze from one person to another.

"Let's soak 'em fah Crutchy!"

Immediately after Jack Kelly shouted this, every newsboy nearby burst forward and into the Distribution Center. Seconds later men with two-by-fours and chains were visible and the gates started closing. My face paled. Twiggy thrust my sketch pad into my hands and dashed forwards to the closed gates. I jumped to my feet and darted between the people who were stopping because of the commotion, Misty right on my heels.

I caught up to Twiggy and held on fast to his shoulders. He tried to shove me off but I tightened my grip and reached an arm around the front of his body. He struggled for a few more seconds before going still and staring at the chaos behind the gates. Bryan Denton was stationed near the metal doors with his camera. He was shouting something at the police officer on the horse that was nervously moving its feet back and forth.

Abruptly, Misty tugged on my wrist and pointed to the buildings surrounding the newspaper distributer. Heads popped up from behind the short walls, and I counted at least twenty before they pulled their hands back with forked looking shapes in their grips. It took me only moments before recognizing the objects as slingshots. A resonating yell of, "Brooklyn!" was heard.

I glimpsed a figure slide down from where they had been standing on a balcony above and watched as they disappeared behind the walls and into the crowd.

Without any kind of warning, a crowd of severe looking newsies were circling around us and moving onward to where the gates were automatically opening. Each of them were holding bats or some kind of weapon. My eyes drifted past them to find a tough looking boy throwing his head back as he finished opening the gates. The muscles in his arms became more prominent as he gripped the cane in his hands before throwing himself back into the winning fray behind him.

"Those dirty rotten scabbahs!"

I started when Twiggy shouted this and only let him go as soon as I saw most of the older men hurrying away. He gave out a war cry and chased after one of them. I exchanged a glance with my eleven-year-old sister and we took a few steps forward to see what was happening inside the alcove. Teenage newsboys were dancing around with each other.

I smiled softly at their success. My eyes darted back and forth to see where Snipeshooter, Boots, and Les had gotten to and breathed a sigh of relief to see them in varying stages of happiness. Racetrack pushed through between two boys who were roughhousing and literally jumped towards me with a crooked grin on his face.

"Did you'se see dat, Madeline! Greatest thing evah. We'se even gots our picher taken by Denton."

I looked behind him to see said man struggling with his large camera, laughing, through the crowd of boys. My attention was pushed back to Racetrack as he started talking again.

"I'se would hug you'se if ya's weren't afraid of it."

I bit my lip in amusement and patted his arm. He chuckled at me. I was suddenly startled as Boots' arms wrapped around my waist and his smiling face was shining up at me.

"Did you'se see those scabs, Mads? I gots a hit in, too!"

I pursed my lips at his words and he continued to smile up at me with his large smile. "I'se is fine." He held his fist up and showed me only slight bruising along his knuckles. "See, nothin too bad."

Teenagers started pouring out from the open gates and many of them were skipping around down the streets and play fighting with friends. Both Racetrack and Boots were recounting the fight inside back to Misty and I, using wild gestures and punching motions. I looked over the gambler's shoulder to see Jack with his arm around the shoulder of the boy with the cane.

They strutted out onto the street, each with their own personal cocky swagger. They were close enough for me to hear what was said over the top of Racetrack's excited talking.

"See dat, Spot," Jack pulled away from the boy. "We'se didn't run from da goons wid clubs."

The boy, I assumed he was Spot, laughed and jabbed an elbow into the cowboy's side.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You'se got what it takes ta win."

So this was the famous Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn. I had only heard him mentioned a few times from Racetrack and Skittery in passing and everything they said had him pinned as a young man with a reputation. A reputation of being a tough ladies man. What I saw of Spot _was_ a tough looking newsie. A tough looking newsie that I wasn't too eager to meet.

An hour later and my sister and I were still being pulled into the enthralling stories of boys who would tell what happened to anyone who would listen. I just so happened to be one of those people. Every time I turned to leave I had a new face in front of me retelling his own version of what happened inside the Distribution Center.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably in the middle of Dutchy and Specs' feverish talk about what had _really _occurred between a Scab and them. I looked around for my escape, hoping for someone to come rescue me at any second. Well, someone finally did.

"Ok boys, let's let da goil get a breath a fresh air. She's probably been listenin ta us street rats evah since da fight ended."

My rescuer happened to be Spot Conlon. Specs and Dutchy immediately stopped talking and frowned at me. I gave them a small shrug and a smile. They grinned back and raced to find another person to tell their stories to.

I uneasily watched them go, almost wishing they had never left, and let my eyes drift back to Spot.

"Names Spot Conlon." His hand rose to meet mine and I took a step back and wrapped my arms around my waist. His stormy eyes pierced into my green ones and I lowered my gaze to the ground. He studied me, and slowly his eyes went from my feet up.

"Ah you'se a friend ah Jack's?"

I gave the smallest shake of my head that I was surprised he could even tell what it was. He nodded and a hand grasped his chin as if he were in deep thought. The cane he had been holding earlier was jutting out from his belt loop and I noticed that the handle of it was gold. I'm sure my eyebrows rose at seeing this, but he made no comment. He just let his other hand rest around the top of the cane.

I timidly took another step back, waiting to see if he would reach out and grab me to keep me from leaving. When I saw that he was only going to continue to watch me, I turned and hastily searched for Misty. I finally found her near Kid Blink and David Jacobs. I risked a look at Spot over my shoulder and then hurried through the now withering crowd to reach her side. I could feel his icy gray eyes bore into my back with every step I took and decided that I didn't want that calculating look pointed at me ever again.

It wasn't until Misty and I reached the apartment later that night that I realized I didn't know where I had misplaced my sketch pad.


	7. It's All In The Eyes

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 7!

**LivingByWill  
XxxEFreakxxX**

(7/9/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Seven - It's all in the eyes**

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The sketchpad I owned was a few years old. The hard cover was worn down, food stains mashed in some places, and a several pages burnt due to a slight kitchen stove accident. It took Aunt Sara saving four months of pay, keeping some money for needed necessities, before she could bring the book home with her in time to present it to me for my fourteenth birthday. I carried it with me everywhere in the apartment for the first three weeks and took to drawing anything that I could find; birds on the fire escape in my sisters tiny bedroom, to spiders climbing on the ceiling. The first ten pages were full of these small things, more then five sketches on each page.

After the first year I grew more conservative on what I drew in the dark gray book. I recognized how much work it took to even make enough money to buy it and decided that I would only draw important things inside of it. Only my most meaningful drawings were put into the book, others were doodled onto any scrap piece of paper that was gathered. My father and mother were a few of those important faces and they were the only accurate, at least from what features I could remember, pictures of them that I had.

This was why I spent most of the night searching the apartment my small family lived in for my missing sketchpad. I checked everywhere twice, sometimes three times, and never managed to glimpse the thick worn down book of paper. There wasn't even many places it could be hidden, considering the scarce amount of furniture and the large amount of free space in the small apartment. My tiny room had been searched high and low four times by candlelight before aunt Sara forced me to go to bed.

"You've probably just misplaced it, Madeline," she reassured me. "And you've forgotten about it. If we don't find it we'll buy you a new one. It might take a couple weeks with everyone's pay put together but we'll get it. Now get to bed. You have to get up early in the morning for work and if you're tired Mr. Tibby will take it out on me."

What she said was partly true. Yes, I had set it down somewhere, but I never would have forgotten about something so precious to me without being completely distracted.

A vision of stern silvery-blue eyes rose up to the front of my mind, and instead of quickly dismissing the image, I sat up and reached down to light the candle by my bedside. I silently slid to the floor and folded my legs beneath me and pushed the dish the now lit candle was in away from me. I let my fingers slide under the bed frame I was leaning against and gently pulled on the nearest piece of paper I could find. Turns out what I had gotten a hold of was the last newspaper given to me before the newsies went on strike. Just the middle pages were left, the rest had been commandeered by Sara to read and were never given back. I pulled the foot stool away from the window and laid the newspaper down onto it.

Ten minutes later I had an exact replica of Spot Conlon's eyes etched into the thin paper. I stiffly stared down at them before shoving the sheet off the stool and onto the floor. My pencil rolled from my fingers and got caught between two uneven floorboards, halting it in its travel away from me. Those eyes stared up from the newspaper and it was like the newsboy himself was standing in the room with me. I unfolded my body and pulled myself up from the floor. I gazed down at the eyes before sighing and reaching down to lift the paper from its place on the wooden boards. I held it lightly between my fingertips and crossed to the other side of the room where all my other drawings were nailed to the wall.

I pushed the newspaper over the flat side of a nail, ripping a hole into a picture of some rich doctor, and took a step back. I shivered involuntarily because of the intensity peering back at me and scolded myself for making the eyes look so life-like. I turned away from the wall and leaned over to blow out the candle with wax pooling around the base of it. Small tufts of smoke drifted into the now black room and I let my eyes adjust to the darkness before straightening my blanket back out from its rumpled mess. I settled myself underneath it and tried to convince my eyes to stop squinting through the nightfall to try and find someone that wasn't there.

I could feel the gaze of those drawn eyes glaring down at me, and I was constantly twisting and turning on my mattress. I flipped over one more time and faced the drawing that was keeping me awake. I scowled up at it before flicking the thin blanket up over my head and uncomfortably shifting. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"What did I tell you, Madeline?"

My head fell to the table in front of me and my eyes closed in relief. As my cheek rested against the rough wood, my aunt banged pots loudly nearby.

"Didn't I tell you that it would either turn up or we'd get you a new one?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued on in her rant. "Yes, I did, but did you listen? No. Instead you had to go on all night trying to find it. Really, Madeline, you look like death warmed over."

I didn't look like I had gotten any sleep, and I didn't believe I had, either. I was up all night constantly shifting and turning over. I was never comfortable and I knew it had something to do with my drawing. Numerous times I grew frustrated and dragged myself from my bed to tear down the newspaper with Spot's eyes profiled onto it. I never did take it down, and I didn't exactly know why. It might have been because it was one of the best sketches I had ever done. It was either that or the way those eyes seemed to take on life and glare down icily at me whenever a hand got close to the paper they were on.

A bowl was pushed over the table towards me and I winced as it slid and hit the top of my head. I sat up rubbing my skull and scowled at Misty who was sitting innocently across the table from me. I rested my head in my hands and frowned down at the oatmeal set before me. I grimaced.

I looked back up at my sister and watched as she scooped up a large spoonful of the gruel and swiftly shoved it into her mouth. She nodded with a smile on her face, almost as if it were a desired taste that she loved. The moment was ruined when her face screwed up and her mouth flew open. Food spilled from her lips and landed back into the bowl as she spat it all out. Misty grabbed for her tongue and quickly raised her shirt to wipe the nasty taste out of her mouth. I sighed at her movements and started to eat my own grotesque looking food.

After braving breakfast, I slid my boots onto my feet and signaled for Misty to hurry with her own shoes. Aunt Sara finished cleaning up Misty's mess and hurried past me to reach the hallway. I watched her scurry into her bedroom and, not even a minute later, she was rushing back out with a shawl thrown over her shoulders and a large basket caught in her hands. She hastily kissed my cheek, leaning down to reach where Misty was sitting to kiss her forehead, and opened the front door.

She turned and gazed back at us, just staring. Finally she cleared her throat. "Be careful today. I don't want either of you in any riots anytime soon. You got that?"

We both nodded at our aunt and I smiled at her as she cautiously closed the door. Misty jumped up from the floor and prepared to open the door that was just shut. I rolled my eyes and tugged on her hair. Her hands immediately raised to her scalp and I saw her eyes widen. She gave a screech, excruciatingly similar to a bird, and took off back to her bedroom. Seconds later she was back and running a comb through her golden locks. She pulled the heavy comb one more time through her hair before tossing it onto the kitchen table.

"Let's get going, Mads. Denton's supposed to be at Tibby's sometime this afternoon with the article 'bout yesterday."

The whole way to the restaurant Misty recounted some of the fighting maneuvers she had witnessed the day before, her arms raised and her fists clenched. She explained that one day, hopefully in the near future, that she would be using these powerful moves on any Scabs that moved in on her territory. I had to quickly reach for my notepad to tell her that she didn't have any kind of territory.

She pouted the rest of the walk.

We reached the front door of Tibby's just as the man himself was unlocking the door to let an employee in.

"You're late," he stated. He kept the door open and waved us through before letting it swing shut and relocking it.

I glanced up at the clock on the far wall and pointed it out to Misty. She looked up at it and then scowled at the restaurant's owner.

"We're only late by a couple of minutes, Mr. Tibby."

He sighed and rushed to flip the chairs over and off the tables. "I was hoping you'd come in a little early so I could prepare Madeline."

I looked over at him, confused, from where I had just set a chair down onto the tiled floor. I exchanged glances with my sister and then motioned Phil to continue on.

"Gregory's wife came in earlier to tell me that he's home sick. Couldn't tell me what it was that he's got, but she's hoping they've got enough money to find out from a doctor later today. Summer colds are not fun."

I grabbed onto another chair and prepared to lift it from the small table.

"That's why I need Maddie out here serving the customers today."

The chair held in my hands fell to the floor and bounced before settling on its side. My gaze was locked on Phil in shock, my eyes wide, and my mouth opening and closing as if I were trying to form words.

He was going to stick me out in the dining area where I'd be with complete strangers. Sure, I had done it before, but I only delivered meals to the people I knew and were comfortable with.

As Phil hurried over to right the fallen chair, I heard my sister shout, "Have you gone insane!"

Tibby looked at her blankly as the chairs four legs hit the ground. His hands gripped the back of it tightly. "I'm short on staff Misty, you know that. Martin's out for the week visiting family out of state, Derrick's got to take care of his dying mother, and now Gregory's going to be gone for at least the next few days. I need help out here."

I stayed frozen as this was said.

Phil scratched at his chin and said, "I know I say this all the time, Madeline, but it's going to be ok. You don't even have to talk to anybody, just bring out their food and set it down on their table. There's nothing else to it. You're just serving it."

* * *

Two hours, and one mild panic attack, later, I was coerced into taking orders and delivering food to the most rambunctious crowd I had ever seen. The restaurant had been turned into a newsboy hangout for the time being and every table in the dining room was filled with at least four dirty and hungry newsies.

Each time I arrived at one of those tables with either my pad of paper or food, they would quiet down and nod politely as I took their orders or set plates down in front of them. As soon as I turned away with a breath of relief, they would turn the volume back up on their voices. I was constantly hailed by Racetrack's table, seeing as he wouldn't let anybody else touch his food or carry his drink. He told me he didn't want Misty getting any nasty ideas and spitting into his soda.

"Madeline!"

I flinched at Racetrack's voice and got a look of sympathy from Itey as he glanced around me to see what the Italian wanted now. I looked over my shoulder at the short newsie and gave an aggravated sigh. I roughly shoved my pad of paper back into my apron pocket and held my hand up to indicate I would be out with the tables food in a moment. Itey and Snitch exchanged glances before patting either of my arms.

I controlled my urge to step away from their comforting pats and instead turned the other direction. I held the food tray at my side and crouched down as Timothy raised his arms and passed his own tray over my head. He stopped just behind me.

"You wouldn't mind helpin me out for a minute would you, Maddie?"

I blinked at Tim and risked a look over at Racetrack. He was sidetracked for the moment as he was entrapped in a tale from one of the other boys sitting next to him. I didn't feel like taking the time to go all the way over there just to have a glass shoved into my face, so I nodded at Tim.

He smiled back at me and gestured to his tray with his head. "Can you put these down on the table just behind you?"

I pulled a few off, silently scolding the older man for having so many plates on one tray, and turned to set them down on the long table just behind me. Les Jacobs grinned up at me from his inspection of the table.

"Hey, Maddie!"

I set a plate of food down in front of him, giving the other to his brother next to him, and leaned around Kid Blink to over the table to ruffle his hair. After my hand was brushed aside he hurried to fix the dirty-blond locks.

"Bit busy in here ain't it, Mads?" Kid Blink turned to look at me with his one sparkling blue eye.

I rolled my eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh.

Mush looked over from his spot next to Les and smiled at me. "It'll only get worse once Denton gets here. He's supposed ta 'ave da pape wit our picher on it."

I chewed on my lip and was about to write a response on my notepad, but was suddenly being yelled at from across the diner.

"Madeline! Where'd you'se go? I'se thought you'se was supposed to come refill me drink?"

My cheeks gained a pink color as some of the tables nearby looked up at Racetrack's comment. I also grew annoyed at his tone. It was almost like he expected me to come every time he called for me. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. Tim silently set the rest of the plates down on the table and walked around to get another order.

"Get somebody else ta do it Racetrack. Bettah yet, do it yahself. Let her 'ave a break for once," Spot Conlon's voice came from nearby.

My eyes reopened to see Racetrack sheepishly looking from me, and then to my left. I glanced over and gazed at Spot's intimidating stance, him with his arms crossed and scowling at the gambler.

"Okay's I'se will get it myself. Don't need Misty Eyes ovah dere getting any ideas." Racetrack shuffled through tables with his glass to reach the back of the restaurant.

I let my eyes drift to the floor. Tanned arms came into view and I briefly looked up to find Spot standing in front of me with a half smile lurking on his lips.

"Does he do dat a lot?"

I got the courage to look up and give a curious stare.

"Ask for thin's he shouldn't really be askin for?"

The notepad in my pocket was quickly pulled out.

He doesn't mean any harm by it. He's so used to not getting anything, that when he finally does, he's taking advantage.

Spot fingered the paper. "See, dat's da thing though, he's takin advantage of ya hos-hospi... What's da word I'se lookin for?"

I gently took the notepad from his grasp. Hospitality?

"Yeah, dat's it."

I really don't mind most of the time. I'm just nervous and stressed today, with everyone being here. That and I didn't really get much sleep.

He didn't need to know that he was the reason for my sleepless night.

Spot casually read through my words, one hand holding the notepad while the other was shoved into a pocket. He lifted his eyes and pat the pad against his chest. "You'se don't seem too bothered by me."

My eyes grew wide and I sucked in a breath as his words sunk in. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and quickly let my eyes roam the dining room, hopefully looking desperate enough that someone would come to my rescue. Now that Spot had brought my attention to my relaxed state, I tensed up and froze, badly wanting to be away from the situation. Nobody I knew turned to check on me though, and I restlessly moved my feet. I felt the rough texture of my paper tilt my chin towards the young man in front of me, and I was soon staring into his eyes. Light green met stormy gray, and I felt like I could stare into that calming gaze forever. Spot gave a small nod after seeing that my attention was back on him.

"Don't worry 'bout it so much."

His voice pulled me from the awestruck stare I was giving him and once again my eyes grew silent from bursting out my emotions. I stepped back. He tapped me on the shoulder with my notepad, me shying away slightly, before gesturing for me to take it.

"Whenevah you'se is ready, I'se will be waitin."

It was at that moment that Bryan Denton opened Tibby's front entrance and held up a folded up newspaper. Spot carefully edged around me, as if I were a rabid dog, and called out, "Hey, where's me picher?"

I unlocked my legs from their frozen state and quickly pushed through newsies as they rushed towards the table Jack Kelly sat at. Misty was in the kitchen dumping a load of dishes into the sink. She jumped as I roughly shoved the swinging door open and then stood in front of it as it swung back into place.

Misty wiped her hands on her apron and approached me cautiously. "Are you ok, Maddie?"

I did nothing but grip my notepad tightly.

"Did one of those boys do something to you?" She asked angrily.

I looked up to her and shook my head, not wanting any trouble with the innocent bystanders outside the kitchen doorway.

Her look softened. "Then what happened?"

I couldn't answer her, because not even I knew what had taken place.


	8. Get the Damn Cigar Outta Here

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 8!

**LivingByWill  
chaoticmom**

(7/9/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Eight - Get the Damn Cigar Outta Here**

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It was closing time when I finally got around to getting the last refill of Racetrack's drink. He quietly apologized for his earlier actions and looked about ready to give me a hug. If it hadn't been for the look on my face, he probably would have.

Tibby's was almost empty, only a scarce few still hanging around. Spot had left sometime after he saw his picture in the paper. The Brooklynite left after stuffing his hat on his head and giving me a swift nod, his gold tipped cane 'clinking' on the floor with each step.

I was almost sad to see him leave. _Almost_.

This was until I was informed of the newsie rally coming up the next night by Jack Kelly, and I immediately knew Spot would be there. Problem of sadness solved.

"Here ya go, Mads," he slapped a beaten and torn up newspaper down in front of me. "I knows you'se didn't gets ta see it. Sahrry it's so..."

I set a plate with a bite of sandwich still on it into the bin on my hip and patiently waited as the Cowboy tried to find a word.

"We'll, I'se would say it's completely ripped an beaten from da boys getting to it. S'all dere is to it." He rubbed at his nose and gestured towards the paper. "Now you'se gets a picher of all of our ugly mugs. Take it wid pride, Mads, maybe dis will get us ta da big papes."

I lifted the paper he had set down and tilted my head at the scene the boys were causing in the picture. I held in a chuckle after seeing all the surprised looks in black and white.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and sheepishly smiled down at me. "We'se all look like idiots, don't we'se?"

I tried to shake my head no, really I did, but my head ended up nodding and laughter bubbled out from my lips.

A full blown grin radiated from Jack's face as he watched me gather my breath only to glance at the newspaper and start laughing all over again.

"What did you'se do ta her?"

Racetrack slid in next to Jack in the booth I was cleaning up and gazed up at me with a grin on his face. I jabbed my finger at the paper, which was really a bad thing considering the circumstances, and laughed even harder after seeing the disgruntled look on newspaper Racetrack's face.

Racetrack moved to take the paper from my sight, but Jack stayed his hand, still scanning my face with a soft smile. "Jus' let her laugh. I'se 'ave a feeling she 'asn't done dis in a long time."

Racetrack's hands went to rest on the tabletop, and they both continued to watch as I slowly caught my breath. Only slight giggles were now coming out.

Misty came up next to me with an amused glance around the table. She pulled the dish bin from my side and set it on a table behind her. After that she gently moved me over and pushed me to sit down on the seat across from Jack and Racetrack.

"Let her catch her breath before you tell her anything else. Calm her down. I really don't want her to have to deal with an attack after the last few days she's had."

Misty was right. I currently wasn't in the mood, not that I ever was, for any kind of panic attack, whether it be a big or little one. After losing my sketch pad and having that earlier conversation with Spot, it felt good to laugh.

Jack slapped his hands on the table when I was finally calm. "Well, it's been fun, but I'se gots ta get back to da Lodgin House. All dis strike leadah stuff 'as made me tired."

He shoved Racetrack from his seat so he could slide out. "We'se is plannin on holdin a rally tamorrow night." After seeing the interested look on my face he carried on. "A newsies rally. It's gonna 'ave every newsie in New York dere, including da extra peoples dey bring from a few sweatshops. You'se should come."

I looked at him cautiously while fingering the edge of the newspaper on the table.

"Take some time ta think 'bout it." Here he turned to Racetrack as he pulled his cowboy hat onto his head. "Don't spend too much time out. You'se know how Kloppman is if everbahdy ain't in by ten, 'e's will lock you'se out."

"I'se will be by after dropping dese twos off, let him lock me'se out on da streets. I'se will guilt trip 'im inta givin me a week free ah lodgin."

Jack smirked and left.

"Racetrack," my sister came up behind me and started helping with piling the dishes into my tub. "Give us five minutes and we'll be ready to go."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later we were rounding the corner to where our apartment and the Newsboys Lodging House was located. Misty was skipping ahead of us, twirling her skirt around while staring up at the dark sky. I fiddled with my rolled up sleeves before pulling them down past my fingers because of the uncomfortable sticky feeling the night air gave me.

"'ey, Madeline?"

I looked up from my inspection of the cobblestone street into the dark brown, almost black coloring of his eyes.

"Ya know 'ow the rally is tamorrow night?"

I tilted my head in response. Weren't we just talking about this back at the diner a few minutes ago? He can't have forgotten already.

"See... I'se don't really knows 'ow ta say dis."

I stopped walking and raised my hand as if to touch his arm to calm him from his now frustrated state, but my hand only made it halfway before I clutched my shawl closer over my shoulders. I could hear Misty singing a tune farther up ahead.

"Would you'se like ta go to da rally wid me?"

My eyes widened at his flustered question.

He took my eyes widening as a bad sign. "Don't worry 'bout it Madeline. It was jus' a dumb question. You'se don't 'ave ta answer dat."

I gazed at the dejected look in his eyes, which were pointed anywhere but at me. Seeing the distress on his face made me feel guilty. I motioned with my hand and he looked back over to me. I nodded a yes to signify that I _did _want to go to the rally with him.

The toothy grin on his face made me happy to be the cause of its appearance. "It'll be great, jus' you'se wait an see."

I smiled and nodded, frowning only a second later.

"What's wrong?"

I pointed to my sister who was happily dancing on the apartment stoop, the newspaper article given to me by Jack gripped loosely in her hand. I looked back to Racetrack after he followed my gaze and turned his attention back to me.

"Yeah, what about 'er?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, you'se don't want 'er ta come."

I nodded.

"In case somethin 'appens, right?"

I nodded again, this time taking a step forward towards my sister. Racetrack followed me and I noticed the elated look on his face as he said goodnight to Misty and I. My sister's eyes traveled after him in suspicion.

* * *

Misty was upset, to put it mildly, that I wasn't allowing her to come with me to the rally. Aunt Sara readily agreed with me that it wouldn't be a good idea for her to tag along to something as rough and rambunctious as the newsie gathering. She almost wouldn't let me go either. It was only after a long explanation of why I _should_ go that she finally said yes to my handwritten pleads.

I flattened the dark blue folds of my skirt, buttoned the last button on my cream colored shirt, and combed away the right part of my hair, slipping a clip in to hold back the strawberry blond locks. Aunt Sara came through my bedroom doorway behind me, carrying something between her hands. I turned from the mirror for her to get a complete look at me. She sighed softly with a smile, closed the door, and then held out her hands. A delicate chain was cradled between her fingers, the small gold locket swinging back and forth as she moved.

"It was your mother's."

The sorrow in Sara's eyes broke my heart. I turned and moved my hair aside and I watched her in the mirror as she quietly clasped the locket around my neck. Tears immediately fell. I whirled around and gripped her waist as my face burrowed into her neck. Her arms circled around my shoulders and her head lay on mine. My aunt's tears ran down her face and into my hair and I squeezed her even tighter. Both of us sat at the same time, landing on the edge of my bed and never breaking our hold.

I'm not sure how long we sat there, embracing each other, crying, but the next thing I knew, Misty was knocking on the door to inform me that Racetrack was waiting in the kitchen along with Mush and Kid Blink.

I leaned away and wiped my face with my sleeve. Aunt Sara didn't bother wiping her face, she just watched me as I cleaned away the rest of my tears.

"You look so much like her, you know." Her hand moved to clutch one of mine. "Misty too. And you both have your fathers nose and ears. God forbid you not get his ears. Your mother would write to me that he always used to tell her that any children they had would get his ears and her eyes... And you did."

I gave Sara a watery smile and rubbed away one of her fresh tears. She closed her eyes and held my hand to her face.

"I miss her."

I stood and then bent to kiss each of her eyelids, then traveled up and kissed her forehead tenderly. Her hazel eyes opened. I took her hand and held it with mine over my heart. She knew without any explanation that I missed my mother too.

"Maddie! If you don't get out here they're going to leave without you!" I heard my sister yell from the hallway.

"No we'se wouldn't, Misty. Don't be so mean." Mush then called out to me, "Take all the time you'se needs, Mads! Goils always take forevah ta look even more pretty den dey was before."

I heard muttering and someone yelled out, "Not in here you can't!"

I glanced at the sketch of the icy eyes staring at me from on the wall. I shook my head at them and looked in the mirror and left the room after seeing the red eyes and flushed cheeks staring back at me. Aunt Sara stayed in my room.

I arrived in the kitchen just in time to see Racetrack finish lighting a cigar and Misty reaching out for it. The gambler dodged behind his two laughing friends and came to a stop in front of me. He took in my red eyes and me wiping my runny nose across the back of my hand.

"Ah you'se ok, Madeline? We'se don't hafta go if you'se don't wants to."

The kitchen quieted and I smiled and tapped the side of my head, giving a thumbs up. Misty took that silent moment to rush towards Racetrack, trying to steal his cigar away from his mouth. Racetrack just plucked it from his lips and held his arm up over his head. He was taller then Misty and she couldn't reach his hand as he refrained from letting her snatch his stogie away from him.

I looked over at Kid Blink and Mush and they beamed back at me.

"Hey, Mads," they both sung out.

I waved at them politely. Racetrack switched hands, Misty just about hanging off his shoulder trying to stretch her arm out enough to get the Havana cigar.

"You'se got dat pape from Jack, right? Da one wid ah faces on it." Kid Blink smiled out at me.

I nodded and laid my hand against the wall, the one Racetrack wasn't huddling against.

Mush seemed to know what that mean and agreed on its placement. "Nice. Right on ya wall, huh. Good place foah it."

"Ah you'se ready ta leave?" Kid asked, stepping forward.

I held my hand up, telling them just one moment, before stealing the cigar from Racetracks fingers. Both he and Misty froze for two seconds before untangling themselves from one another, Misty more so then Racetrack. They scowled over at me and I waved the cigar in their faces. I nodded at the other two newsies in the room and gestured towards the front door. They chuckled and hastily made their way out of the exit.

Racetrack extended his hand for the cigar and I shook my head at him. I pointed towards the doorway with my free hand and he immediately understood that he would get his smoking cigar back once he was outside. He left the room whistling and swung himself around the door jamb with one arm as he went. My sister peered up at me after he left and observed my cooling face.

"You were crying." There was no question in her comment.

I nodded and swiped my right arm with my left hand in a downward motion. This was my sign for 'aunt Sara'. Our heads jerked towards the hallway as we heard a soft wail come from behind my closed bedroom door. Misty indicated for me to head outside to meet the boys, waving away smoke as I held the cigar up near our faces.

"I'll take care of her, just go have fun tonight. Be careful please, you never know what could happen at these things."

I gently slapped her arm and slowly made my way towards the door Racetrack left open for me.

"And get the damn cigar outta here already!"

I gave a disapproving glare over my shoulder at her language as I took a step onto the landing. She smirked, shrugged, and then slammed the door shut, her mirthful green eyes the last thing I saw of her.


	9. The King of Brooklyn Went Down

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 9!

**LivingByWill  
chaoticmom  
XxxEFreakxxX  
luvchyld21  
chaoticmom (again) =)**

(7/9/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

_Brief warning also, there's a bit of a time gap between the speech the two leaders and David gives, to when Medda starts her singing. Sorry for that._

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**Chapter Nine - The king of Brooklyn went down**

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"Don't do it. Mads, you'se wouldn't like it."

"Don't listen ta 'im, Mads, you'se is a big goil, you'se can decide for yaself."

I glanced at Racetrack to see what he thought about the situation.

He held his hands up. "It's all up ta you'se, Madeline, I'se not choosin for ya's."

I made a split second decision and handed the cigarette back to Kid Blink. Mush sighed in relief. Kid looked disappointed.

"Why not?"

I took in a dramatic breath and slapped my chest while coughing. I shook my head.

Mush nodded in agreement and happily stated to Kid Blink's confused face, "She doesn't wanna 'ave any of da problems dat come wid smokin."

The newsie with the eye patch rolled his one eye. "An what problems would dat be?"

"Well, dat guy a few years ago from Harlem died from i- I'se mean," Much coughed and tried to cover up the mention of death from me. "Got, uh, sick from smokin' too much."

There was a brief silence that Kid quickly interrupted.

"Wait, what? I'se thought dat kid died from fallin off da Brooklyn-" The sentence was quieted as Mush slapped his hand over the newsies mouth. The curly haired teenager chuckled nervously and whispered something I couldn't hear into Kid Blink's ear. Kid's face showed a look of revelation, hearing something he never knew obviously, and grinned at me when my eyes focused on him.

I apprehensively fiddled with the golden heart locket strung around my neck and managed a smile that came out as a grimace. I don't particularly like death. It scared the living hell, pardon my light French, out of me. After hearing about how my father died while being mugged, he was pick-pocketed and caught the man with his hand in his coat pocket, and seeing my mothers death with my own eyes, I tried to stay away from the mention of it. There was no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I hated death and it could stay away from me and everyone I loved for all I cared. Maybe _it_ should go jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.

Racetrack fixed the awkward silence in the night air. "'Nuff 'bout dis kinda talk. Let's jus' get ta Medda's fah a good seat."

Kid Blink and Mush snickered. "Liddle excited ta see 'er, huh, Race?"

The Italian dodged a group of newsies standing on the street corner and pulled on my arm so I'd follow him, and so he could avoid the question. The teens nodded their hello's to us, and went back to their conversation. We were getting closer to this _Medda's_ place. I knew that because the groups of people walking around on the streets turned from fathers rushing to get home and women patiently walking through the crowds, to young boys all over the road and sidewalk.

I watched as a small pack of them jumped aside, yelling out obscenities when a carriage was driven where they had just been standing. The old man driving the cart only briefly looked over his shoulder to give the boys a sneer before carrying on.

"Damn old geezer."

"-Needs ta learn how ta control 'is-"

"-Couldn't he see us standin 'ere-"

"Hey, Racetrack!"

Our heads turned to the other side of the street. A young man in gray cut off shorts and a black boulder hat was waving Racetrack over to him.

My date for the night squirmed and grimaced at me. "Can I'se-"

I smiled and nodded, extending my arm to wave towards the boy who was stepping from foot to foot impatiently. Racetrack graciously grinned at me and stepped in the middle of a play sword fight to reach the newsie.

"He's gone forevah."

I twisted around and flashed Mush a puzzled look. Mush dipped his head to where Racetrack was spit shaking with the boy across the street.

"You'se probably won't be seein 'im till da show starts."

Kid Blink indicated for me to follow them as he saw my bewildered look. "He's gonna gamble fah a while. See dat kid ovah dere?"

I acknowledged where his finger was pointing. "Dat's Ace. He's da best card playah 'round, Racetrack has yet ta beat 'im. He's probably gonna be playin cards fa most of da night."

Disappointed in my friend for leaving me practically alone, I picked up my pace and caught up to Mush, who had his arm slung over Kid Blink's shoulder, and Kid Blink, who was suddenly singing at the top of his lungs with his head thrown back.

"HIGH TIMES, HARD TIMES, SOMETIMES DA LIVIN IS SWE-"

"Do you'se think she's gonna sing dat tanight?"

Kid tilted his head to look at Mush. "I shoah hope so."

So far, this newsie gathering didn't sound like it was going to be much fun.

* * *

I jumped as someone bumped into the table and spilled their beverage onto the wooden top. I wiped at the small drops that landed on my skirt and politely nodded as the newsie furiously apologized, insisting that his friend had pushed him. He glared over his shoulder at a howling boy behind him who was abruptly pulled into a dance by a girl who looked much younger then him. The newsboy looked back down at me and set his drinks onto the table, grabbing a chair and pulling it closer to where I was sitting.

"What're you doing sitting here all by your lonesome?"

I spared a glance around the table to half full glasses and empty chairs. My friends had all left to either dance with someone or to watch the serious game of poker going on across the room. The speeches Jack, David, and Spot made had everyone rowdy and excited. I had been trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, my arms hugging my waist, and was slouched down as far as I could go in my seat so nobody would take notice to me.

I scooted my chair over, pretending to reach for Skittery's cup that only had a mouth full of soda left in it. A mug was slid over to me. I reluctantly stopped reaching for the other drink and instead I warily looked down at the amber colored liquid in front of me.

"Jus' have that. Doon won't be needing it anyway." He pointed over his shoulder without turning away from me. I glimpsed the boy who had pushed him into my table through the cluster of people, his arms wrapped around the girl he had been dancing with. They weren't dancing now.

I lightly fingered the glass, not taking a drink.

"It's not gonna hurt ya. S'not like I poisoned it."

I immediately pushed the mug away from me.

"Oh, come on." The red haired newsie slid it nonchalantly back over in front of me. "I promise I didn't do nothin to it."

I stayed hesitant and didn't bother picking the glass up. My hands landed in my lap and I started wringing them together. My eyes darted at all the unknown faces surrounding me and my breath hitched.

"Why aren't you drinking it?" I squeezed my eyes shut as his angry voice penetrated my ears. My heart was rapidly beating against my chest. "Hey, answer me."

A hand roughly grabbed my shoulder and I instantly tried to shove it off. His fingers wouldn't remove themselves from their death grip.

"Back off, Shreddah."

The menacing voice stilled the red head's attempts to pull me closer. The hand gripping my shoulder let go and my chair moved backwards and away from him, startling me into a whimper. It now felt like my ribcage was suffocating me.

"Yeah," I heard an angry boyish voice say. "Or you'll be sorry!"

I watched through my half-lidded eyes as Shredder backed down.

"Sorry, Conlon, didn't know she was yours." He left after that.

Twiggy was suddenly standing in front of me, Spot Conlon leaning over his shoulder with a worried look on his face.

"Maddie, you really need to take a deep breath right now."

I waved my hand at him. I was starting to get light-headed.

"C'mon Twigs, what ah we'se supposed ta do if she does dis?" Spot asked, looking very uneasy as my hands rose to grip my shirt.

Twiggy looked frightened as he realized he had no clue what to do. Spot shook off the distress from his face and quickly pushed Twiggy aside.

"I'se is gonna touch you'se ok?"

I shook so bad that I didn't really know if I nodded or not.

He promptly laid his hand on my back and started gently, but firmly, rubbing circles between my shoulder blades.

"He's gone. No need ta worry. He's not comin back. Do you'se understand dat."

I tried to suck in a breath.

"Hey, seddle down. Take a deep breath."

I couldn't do it, it felt as if someone had covered my face with a pillow, smothering me.

"I'se will do it wid you'se. Here, look at me."

I gazed up at him and lost myself in his gray eyes. He scanned my face and took a deep breath, motioning me to do it with him.

I heard someone rush up next to us, but didn't bother looking over to see them. All I needed right now was to breathe.

Spot looked over his shoulder for a brief second, but immediately turned back to me as I made a low whine. "Try an imagine yaself somewhere where nobody can hurt you'se."

My eyes closed and my mind went to the field with the flowers and chirping birds in it. Misty and aunt Sara were there smiling encouragingly back at me.

"Is she ok? Madeline? What 'appened?"

That was Racetrack's voice. I ignored him and took a deep breath. My eyes reopened to Spot's brilliant smile.

"Dere you'se are."

"Jesus! What da 'ell 'appened?"

Spots face went from gentle to fuming. He kept rubbing along my spine as he turned to where Racetrack's tense body was standing across the table from us.

"Everybody left 'er sitting 'ere all alone. Whatsa mattah wid you'se? Aren't you'se supposed ta be 'er date tanight? Shreddah jus' frightened da shit outta 'er."

Racetrack's eyes widened as he searched the crowd. A few tables had turned to see what the commotion was all about and I could hear Jack telling people to, 'Get da hell outta my way!' as he made his way over. Racetrack apologetically glanced over at me. I accepted it with a small, _very_ small, smile and captured another burst of oxygen in my lungs.

Jack finally pushed his way through the crowd, Les and an older girl in a white dress stumbling along behind him.

"Twiggy jus' told me. What happened?"

It was then that I noticed the small thin boy had disappeared.

"Shreddah's violence towards women has started up 'gain."

"And Racetrack left Maddie all alone." Twiggy reappeared between Jack and the girl.

Jack gave a disapproving glare at the short Italian.

Racetrack gave an incredulous shrug and spouted. "I'se sahrry, alright. I'se shoulda been watchin 'er."

Since when did I need someone's full attention on me at all times. In the back of my mind I knew they were just looking out for me, but as for that minuscule second, I didn't care. I quickly stood up and Spot had to grab onto my arm so I wouldn't fall back down into my seat. I could feel a headache coming on. My hand rose to my forehead and I frowned.

Jack had his hands out just in case I tumbled forwards. "Do you'se wants ta go home, Mads?"

I took a moment to think it over. I needed to be here to recount the night back to Misty. Earlier at home, before the boys came to get me, she had threatened me with our disgusting oatmeal breakfast. That I would be eating it for every meal for the rest of my life if I didn't stay for most of the night. I shook my head.

Jack exchanged a glance with the girl beside him. Les was next to her, unconsciously tugging on her skirt. "What do you'se say 'bout comin an sitting wid us? Shows gonna start soon. We'se is sitting right up front. Best seat in da house and you'se can get a clear view of Medda, the Swedish Meadowlark."

The grin on his face had me unknowingly nodding along to whatever he was saying.

* * *

An hour later I was sat between Spot Conlon's watchful eyes and David Jacobs' nervous glances. I giggled as Racetrack and Kid Blink started dancing along side the beautiful red head on stage. Spot grinned at me and continued to sing along with everybody else.

It seemed that me and Sarah, David and Les' older sister, were some of the only ones that didn't know the words. Jack swiftly stood from his seat, still singing, and went to the edge of the stage. He helped Medda down and danced alongside her.

It was a few minutes after that, that David was suddenly in my personal space, leaning over me to prod Spot's shoulder. The newsie with red suspenders was taking a sip of his soda when David muttered, "Trouble."

Spot furrowed his eyebrows and set his glass down. "Whaddya mean Davey?"

David hurriedly motioned towards where Bryan Denton had been all night, taking pictures of the rally. Spot and I glanced over. A man in a nicely tailored black suit was engaged in staring across the room to the large group laughing and dancing near the singer clothed in pink.

"Shit," Spot sputtered out. Both he and David stood at the same time. Spot grabbed a hold of my hand and pulled me to my feet.

"Go tell Jack!"

David moved to where Cowboy was and Spot started towing me towards one of the exits. "We'se gots ta get you'se outta here, Maddie."

I looked at him in question.

"Dere's gonna be a raid on da place. Most of us ah probably gonna be arrested."

My eyes widened and a whistle was sporadically blown. The exit we had been heading for was now filled with cops holding onto clubs and rushing towards us. Everyone in the building started scattering to find a way out.

Spot let go of my hand and pushed me away before dodging the club one of the police officers threw at him. I stumbled backwards into Pie Eater and he carefully set me on my feet before jumping onto the back of the cop swinging at Spot.

"Get 'er outta 'ere, Spot!"

I watched Pie Eater jab at the person he was currently on top of and let Spot grab for my hand again. He jerked me away as my friend was knocked off and kicked in the stomach.

We ran into several more goons and bulls, as the newsies called them, and then came across three of them surrounding two small bodies. Patches, who I had learned was at the rally but never got the chance to say hello to, and Twiggy were cornered. I yanked my hand from Spot's and my arm shot out to point to the young boys when he flicked his gaze back at me.

A minute later two of the men were on the floor, moaning in agony, leaving a space for the two small boys to rush to safety. Spot kept the last one occupied while Patches ran into my arms and burrowed his tear stained face into my neck. His legs tightened around my waist as the noise in the room escalated. Twiggy clutched my skirt and dug his head under my arm and into my side. I side stepped a Midtown newsie rushing past, a man with brass knuckles clenched in his fist pushing us away to reach him. Spot was suddenly pulling on my arm again, Twiggy's hand glued to his free one.

We reached the front entrance and hurried through the doorway just as an unconscious Kid Blink was being dragged towards a cart full of beaten kids.

"Damn!"

There was a ring of police officers on horses surrounding us. We stood on the middle step in front of the doors and Spot snagged the arm of someone I recognized as a Brooklyn newsie, pulling him from the fray of panicked people.

"Get these three outta here an someplace safe. Now!"

The newsie nodded, now with a more concrete purpose to get away from the police other then not being arrested, and reached out for my shoulder. I whimpered and held Patches head down more steadily onto my shoulder.

"Jus' go, Madeline. He's not gonna hurt you'se." Spot's calming voice rose above the loud yelling and screaming.

I nodded at him and let the newsie lead me and Twiggy through a gap in the cops' line up. I turned back one last time to make sure Spot was alright, but only managed to get a good look at him being clobbered in the back by a man with a two-by-four. The King of Brooklyn went down in one hit and rolled, quickly pulling on the mans ankles. The big oaf crashed onto the ground and Spot was immediately on him with his fists swinging. It was only after a rough and hard hit to the back of the head did the Brooklynite stop fighting and slump over.

The last thing I saw of Spot Conlon, was his limp body being dragged away from my sight as I was tugged around the corner.


	10. You Like Him Too, By The Way

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 10!

**elleestJenn  
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(7/9/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Ten - You like him too, by the way**

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The black silence was all that was seen and heard. No hollers from his boys as they called out a respectful greeting. No splashes indicating cannon balls from the docks. No colorful clothing from Medda to casually glance at. No green eyes to get lost in. Pain was suddenly felt, and that's what brought him back into consciousness.

Spot blinked into the darkness, believing his eyes were still closed until a face appeared from the shadows.

"Mornin, Princess. 'ow was ya nap?"

Racetrack Higgins edged backwards from the glare he was received.

"Probably bettah if my head didn't hurt so bad. I'se gots a headache da size ah Brooklyn. What 'appened?"

The dark shape of his Manhattan friend sat back on his heels. "'eard from Swifty dat you'se got knocked in da 'ead pretty 'ard."

Spot slowly sat up and felt the back of his skull. He held in the wince of pain as his fingers brushed along the bump raising on the skin. He rubbed at his eyes and that was when they finally adjusted to the inky blackness surrounding him.

Most of the Manhattan newsies were gathered in groups throughout the crowded room, many of them asleep. A few newsboys from other boroughs were huddled together in a few of the corners. Spot took notice and counted six of his boys sleeping on the floor nearby. Almost all of the cots were filled with sleeping younger kids, and he spotted Crutchy among them, the crutch near his side giving his dark figure away. Spot couldn't find the one person that he really wanted to see.

"Where's Jack?"

Racetrack shrugged his shoulders, but Spot could see the worry behind his eyes "I'se don't know. He was carried in like da rest of us, and den was moved ta somewhere else." Racetrack hesitated. "Did-did you'se see if Madeline got out ok?"

Spot's mind raced from Jack to the frightened girl with strawberry blond hair. The last thing he remembered before being knocked out were her green eyes staring back at him; the eyes that were almost too large for her small heart shaped face. He blinked and the image of her holding onto Patches and being pulled away from him, alarmed, was burned into his mind.

"Yeah... She did. I gots Dodgah takin care of 'er right now an getting 'er home safely."

* * *

We were three streets away when I finally jerked my arm from the Brooklyn newsie's unyielding hold. Twiggy stumbled to a halt beside me and dropped to his knees. He was breathing hard due to our recent fast pace and from the sobbing coming from his lips. Patches clenched the back of my shirt with his tiny fists and dug his face deeper into my wet neck.

The newsie reached down to pull Twiggy back to his feet. I shoved his hand away and stood in front of the eleven-year-old. The young man gave a sound of annoyance.

"We'se needs ta keep movin. Da bulls ah probably gonna be scourin da streets for us street rats dat got free. We'se need ta get somewheres safe. Dat's what Spot wanted me'se ta do, get you'se someplace safe."

I again pushed away his hand, my fear of strangers rapidly disappearing for the time being. I held up my palm to indicate that we needed a minute. I turned and inspected the hunched over figure on the street. I could feel the stare of the newsie's heated glare on my back. I shifted Patches over to my other hip, shivering as the cool night air drifted over my tear stained neck. I spun around and flung my arm out to a surprised boy. I finally managed to shoo the newsboy farther away, close enough in case he was needed, but far enough away that he wouldn't be a bother.

I carefully kneeled down, shifting my skirt so I could even complete the action, with one knee to the cobblestone and one bent so Patches could sit comfortably. His feet went to the ground, but other then that, he didn't move except to hold onto me tighter. I lightly brushed my fingers across Twiggy's shoulders and then rubbed at his back. His head shot up.

"I w-want my mo-momma."

The pitiful hiccup to his voice had me slowly nodding. I gave him a maternal smile and helped him back to his feet. Both he and I almost toppled back over, me from the weight of Patches catching up to me and him from his tired legs, but a hand on our arms kept us steady.

The newsie let go of us when he saw that we were stable and not going to be falling over any time soon.

"Madeline, thank god!"

I pivoted on my feet to catch sight of a blur of white, blue, brown and tan before someone threw an arm around the free side of my waist. I sighed in relief to find a half asleep Les held in a hysterical Sarah's arms. I quietly pat at her back and she gave me one last squeeze before letting go and stepping away.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded my head, looking down at Twiggy who wiped at his face and stuck his head into the side Patches wasn't clutched to. I smoothed his dark hair out of his watering blue eyes. Sarah raised a hand to her forehead and then lowered it to rub at Les' back.

"Have you seen David anywhere?"

I shook my head and peered around us at the empty street. The whistles from the police could still be heard from where we were standing.

"I hope he's ok, and that he didn't get captured. Papa and momma wouldn't be able to pay to get him out of jail."

I nodded in a soothing way and squeezed her arm. Footsteps alerted us to my escort coming closer.

"I'se needs ta get you'se home. It's probably da safest place righ' now."

I waved towards Sarah and Les. I was not leaving them all alone out here on the streets. Not with the cops searching for anyone involved in the newsie rally.

"She lives right across from the Newsboy Lodging House. My place is on the way." Looks like Sarah was thinking the same thing. "I'm a couple blocks over. And Twiggy can come with me when we reach it. I just found out the other day from Les that he lives in the same building as us."

I looked at her curiously, wondering how she knew where I lived. The older girl sheepishly smiled at me as we started walking after our guide. "I was watching some of the poker game earlier and Racetrack started chattering away. He might've mentioned that you live on the same street as them. I asked Jack after Racetrack said something about your delicious pie."

I rolled my eyes towards the starry night sky. That's Racetrack for you, always thinking with his stomach. The child in my arms shifted and I looked down fast enough to see Patches stick his thumb in his mouth and close his eyes sleepily. He was fast asleep only minutes later.

"Looks like Les and Patches had the same idea."

I observed Sarah as she peered down at her little brother who was limp against her left shoulder.

"It _is_ close to midnight. So it's no wonder why they're tired. Are you going to make it home, Twiggy? Or do you need us to work something out so one of us can carry you too?"

Twiggy's half lidded eyes barely focused on us as he yawned. "I think I'll be able to make."

His fingers wrapped around the arm I laced together with my other hand to hold Patches up and his head leaned against me. He looked like he was sleep walking. We turned a corner and I watched our newsie escort light a cigarette.

"So..." Sarah 's voice lowered and she peeked to make sure he was far enough ahead of us so she wouldn't be overheard. "I think Spot likes you."

I skeptically looked at her, my face starting to turn pink, and I, too, looked to see how far ahead the young man was walking. I fervently shook my head at her and guided Twiggy away from the edge of the curb.

She gave me a small smirk. "Oh, yes he does. I heard from Jack that he's not usually so nice to people he's just barely met. He's usually all... leaderish and mean."

I quickly held up my hand and put down a few fingers so she'd know how many days I'd known Spot. Sarah just smiled at me brightly.

"See. I can also tell by the way he acts with you. Earlier, when you had that panic attack, that's what it's called isn't it?" I nodded so she could continue. "Well, Twiggy told me that Spot asked, I repeat, _asked _you if he could touch you to help calm you down."

I stared at the ground passing beneath my feet.

"Now, I only really know that basics of your past." I glanced up at her and she shrugged. "Jack's fault, sorry. He sometimes can't shut up, just like Racetrack. Anyways, all I really know is that something happened to make you afraid of men. I can kinda guess what that something is, but let's not go into that right at this moment, alright."

I nodded vigorously.

"So when he asked you if he could touch you and then got around to it, did you find yourself calming down faster then normal?"

I recounted back to when Spot's hand was stroking my spine. The serenity that grew when I stared into his stormy eyes. The warmth of his fingers gently digging into my flesh in a comforting way. It was more of a caress now that I thought about it.

My eyes widened and Sarah grinned at me.

"You like him too, by the way."

I choked on the spit in my mouth. Sarah continued to grin at me as she slapped at my back a few times, almost jostling both Patches and Les awake.

"Just by that reaction I know I'm right, aren't I?"

I blankly stared back at her smug look. My lips opened as if to speak, but I hesitated and became flustered. We passed under a street lamp and she cheered in delight at the red hue that flowed from my cheeks and down my neck.

Sarah giggled and called to the newsie that was walking much faster then us. "Wait just a minute, I live right here."

The light haired young man grew irritated. I could tell because he was pacing as Sarah paused on the bottom step of the apartment's stoop. I slowly pulled Twiggy away from my body, catching onto his arm as he became unbalanced.

Sarah took his other arm and helped him adjust himself against her. He sluggishly looked up at me. I put my fingers to my lips and then blew the imaginary kiss towards him. He closed his eyes again with a smile.

Sarah shifted Les higher onto her side, watching as I did the same with Patches. "Are you taking him home with you?"

I hadn't even considered taking him back to the lodging house. I nodded at the older girl. She gave me a pleased look. "Get to bed, Maddie." She was silent for a moment before words starting pouring out of her in a rushed sentence. "I can call you that, right? Jack kept calling you Mads and Racetrack only calls you Madeline and then I heard Spot call you Maddie... do you mind?"

I held back a laugh at her panicked expression. As if I would be mad at her for calling me one of my nicknames. I smiled as brightly as I could. Sarah sighed in relief. She took a quick glance at the newsie watching us nearby and motioned me to come closer.

She studied my face and then spoke in a hushed tone. "Don't fight it, Maddie. Don't fight your feelings. It will only make the situation worse."

And then she was up the steps and pulling Twiggy inside. I stared at the spot she had just been standing in. With an absent look in my eyes, I turned and followed after the newsie who glanced over his shoulder at me every few minutes to make sure I hadn't fallen behind.

Within minutes we reached the street the Manhattan newsies and I lived on. I made it to my apartment stoop and waved to the boy who was already moving away from me. I exhaled and let my arm fall around Patches. My fingers splayed out across his back and I began to hum when he began to get restless in my arms. I gradually made my way up three flights of stairs to the sight of the broken down door of my home.

I immediately stopped humming and froze. Dents lay in the wood, like something had been bashed into it repeatedly to knock it down. The door was hanging on only one hinge, the wood splintered. I took one careful step inside, holding the still sleeping Patches to me more firmly then before. I stared into the darkness, listening for any kind of sound that would indicate someone was still inside. I heard nothing. Absolute silence. And that's what terrified me.


	11. Bloody Footprints and Knots

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 11!

**Spotted Dancer  
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******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Eleven - Bloody footprints and Knots**

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My loose hand started shaking and I quickly clasped it together with the one holding Patches up to get it to stop. I took another step inside my now disaster of a home. I could see, just from where I was standing, the kitchen table turned on its side and the chairs all accompanying it lying broken on the floor. My aunt Sara's sewing basket was tilted and everything inside was strewn across the floor of the front room.

I took another few steps in the door, listening for any kind of sound that would tell me that my sister and aunt were inside. I couldn't hear anything other then the deep silence that was burning my ears. I went to set Patches down on our beaten and run-down old sofa. He curled up on his side, his thumb still in his mouth.

After peering into the inky blackness down the hallway, it seemed to be darker down there somehow, I carefully made my way towards the bedrooms at the back of the apartment. I had to keep looking down to see what my feet were stepping on, my mind full of many ideas as to what happened, and it seemed to believe that the person who did this was still here. Waiting and lurking in the shadows.

I stepped on what used to be Sara's good china set and I wondered why it was in the hallway and not in the kitchen cupboards. It didn't bother me for longer then a moment because I continued to move on down the hallway. I passed by my closed bedroom door, noticing that it was still intact. I desperately wanted to go inside, slam the door shut, and then huddle underneath my thin blanket to keep away the bad things.

After glaring at my door for just that reason, I took another few steps to reach my sisters bedroom. Her door was open. I didn't go past it. I stood in the doorway and examined the tiny room with horror written on my face.

Misty's mattress was torn to shreds, her blankets ripped into pieces. The clothing she owned was thrown on the floor and I noticed a dress our mother had made for her (although it was too small now) was slashed down the front. I held back a sob as I saw the scratch marks on the floor leading to where my feet were. My sister had been dragged out of her room.

My hands flew over my mouth to hold in the scream waiting to be let out. My eyes clamped shut and I stumbled back out into the hallway. I felt my back hit the wall opposite Misty's bedroom, and I was almost tempted to slide down it and not go any farther. My hands released my mouth and I took in a ragged breath between my lips.

I didn't bother wiping my tear stained face as I gathered what little strength I had to walk away from the sight of the fingernail marks. I lost my balance and my shoulder slammed into the wall. I pushed against it and let one hand rest on the chipped wall. My fingers wandered over the worn wallpaper as I staggered towards aunt Sara's bedroom.

I paused when I came to it, not looking in. I closed my eyes and tried to take in a deep breath. My eyes reopened and I took that last step that would let my aunt's room enter my vision. I couldn't stop staring.

* * *

_"It'll be alright, Sweetheart."_

_"Mommy?"_

_"Yes."_

_"When do you think she'll be better?"_

_"Well I don't know, Maddie. It could be today, or it could be tomorrow. It could even be next week. If she'd actually rest like she's supposed to, then she'd get better faster."_

_The beautiful woman bent over and tickled at Misty's side. My younger sister giggled uncontrollably as she shied away from Mother's searching fingers._

_"Maddie! Help me!"_

_I grinned at my sisters pleads. "Sorry, Misty, but I can't help you."_

_Misty squirmed as Mother's hands found a particular ticklish spot. "W-why not?"_

_"Cause if I do, then she'll come after me too."_

_Mother stopped her hurried movements and let Misty catch her breath. She wasn't breathing too good, and it was coming in and out of her lips with a raspy sort of sound._

_"Now, get some sleep, Misty. You're going to need it if you want to get better," Mother spoke. Her melodic voice calmed me._

_I pulled my sisters blankets up to her neck and then tucked it in around her body. "Yes, if you want to come outside and play in the park with me, then you're going to need to sleep."_

_Misty nodded her head in a serious manner and tightly closed her eyes. Mother raised her hand over Misty's face and gently brushed her fingertips across one of her eye lids, over her nose, and to her other eye. _

_"You need to relax, little one."_

_My mother ran her fingers through Misty's light blond hair. I sat down on the edge of the small mattress Misty and I shared. I glanced at my mother and did the same thing as her and ran my small fingers through Misty's hair. I peeked up to make sure I was doing the movements right and Mother smiled at me. Misty's eyes were still clenched shut._

_"Misty," I scolded. "If you don't let your eyelids relax then you're not going to have anymore eyes because they'll be sucked into your head."_

_My five year old sister's eyes shot open and she stared at me in amazement. _

_"Really?" She whispered._

_I nodded my head fast. "Yeah. It's true, isn't it, Mommy?"_

_Mother silently shook her head, her lips raised into a smile. "The things you come up with, Madeline, really."_

_I grinned up at her and pulled my hand from Misty's head as her hair got caught in my fingers. _

_"Ouch, Maddie! Stop pulling on my hair."_

_"I'm not meaning to. It's got caught around my fingers." I glanced down at my sister's pained face before adding. "I think we need to cut it all off just to get it loose."_

_Misty's eyes widened considerably. "No! You will do no such thing! Momma, tell Maddie that she isn't to touch my hair ever again!"_

_There wasn't a reply and we both looked to see all the blood drain from Mother's face. It was then, in the empty silence, that I could hear the thuds of someone's feet coming up the stairs through the thin walls. I gave a startled squeak as the front door was slammed open and banged into the wall._

_Mother pushed Misty into the corner and then pulled me farther onto the mattress next to her. She quickly stood as the footsteps came closer and closer to where our bedroom lay. Misty grabbed onto my arm and hid her face into my shoulder. I could hear her panicked sobs being muffled by my nightshirt._

_The bedroom door suddenly swung open and crashed against the small dresser sitting behind it. Both Misty and I gave a small scream as the loud noise sounded out into the candlelit room. The man who entered from the front room was rotund, his belly hanging over the edge of his pants. His hands were beefy and sausage-like, and his face was swollen. I barely glimpsed Robert's glazed over eyes before he was shouting nonsense at my mother._

_"I can't understand you, Robert," Mother sobbed._

_My step-father took a step into the room and yelled, "Where's supper!"_

_"Misty-she-she's sick. I didn't have any time to cook anything."_

_Mother couldn't say anything more because Robert's large hands were instantly grabbing at her long hair and pulling her out into the front room. Mother tried to get free by kicking at him. She finally succeeded in landing a kick to one of his knees, making him drop her. Mother scrambled towards where I cowered against Misty. She was dragged backwards by her feet, Robert's hands gripping her ankles tightly._

_I held Misty's head against my shoulder as Mother screamed._

_"Please don't! Please!"_

_I shook Misty away from me and rolled off the mattress. My bare feet flew over the floor and I glanced over my shoulder at my howling sister. "Shh, it'll be ok Misty. Just... just stay here!"_

_I pulled the door shut, trying to block out the anguished look on my sister's face. I wiped at my eyes with my shirt sleeve and crept to where Mother's screams were growing louder. Just as I reached the entrance to where Robert and her were, she fell to the floor, her hands covering the right side of her face. I only saw red before I was running across the room and hitting at anything I could reach on Robert's body._

_"Stop it! Leave her alone!"_

_My step-father picked me up by my right arm and threw me away from him. I felt my forehead connect with the kitchen counter nearby. Everything went dark for what seemed like hours, but was in fact only seconds. I lay in a dazed heap, blood leaking into my eye, and watched as Robert tore at my mothers blouse._

_All I could see was the helplessness in my mother's eyes as she ignored the man ripping at her clothing. She knew trying to get free was a lost cause. Instead, she stared across the room and into my eyes. I reached out across the floor as if she were right next to me. She did the same and she gave the smallest of smiles._

_It was after that small moment that her face contorted and she started screaming because of the knife digging into her side. _

* * *

Somebody was screaming. Screaming so loud that I felt like my eardrums were going to burst from the intensity of it. It wasn't until a loud banging against the wall that I realized the scream was coming from me. The shriek cut off and it went silent for only a second.

"Shut the hell up in there! Some peoples gots to work in the early morning."

I ignored the yell, I ignored the thud coming from the living room, and I ignored the sound of someone rushing to where I was standing. All I could focus on was the terrifying sight in front of me.

My hands slapped over my mouth as I tried to dispel the sudden fear creeping up on me. I barely noticed when my knees hit the floor. The only thing my mind was fixated on was the scene inside my aunt Sara's bedroom.

"Maddie?" I heard someone whisper to my left.

One of my hands left my face and I held it out to stop Patches from coming any closer.

"What's wrong?" His innocent sleep ridden voice asked.

My other hand left my face to brace myself against the floor and my mouth was now free to let out the scratchy sounding sob. Patches rushed to my side and his arms were thrown around my shoulders. He hadn't seen what was in my aunt's bedroom.

"Tell me what's wrong, Mads. What's wrong?"

I couldn't tell him. No, I wouldn't. I tried to push him away from me and back from the doorway. I tried to keep his eyes from catching onto the gruesome mess set before me. I tried, but his head had already turned and the colors were already burned into his mind. Just like they were to mine.

His breath caught in his throat and he pitched forward into me. I caught him and turned him away. I held his head against my shoulder as I furiously searched for my notepad. I finally found it and ripped out a page, almost tearing it in half. I quickly wrote on it and shoved it into Patches range of vision.

He struggled to read the words, his tears making the letters blurry. After a few minutes he was able to read my note. He squinted up at me, his hands scrunching my shirt.

"But dey've all been caught. I'se don't think anybody is-"

I roughly pointed at my note. He took in a shaky breath and quickly nodded. He got to his feet, and turned as if to take one more glance into my aunt's room. Before he could even glimpse the red mass on the floor, I shoved him away towards the front door. He almost fell from the strength of my push, but it didn't bother him as he suddenly took off and disappeared from my sight. My legs trembled as I stood and I leaned into the door jamb to keep me up. I stared into the room.

My aunt Sara was dead. Murdered as she slept. Whoever had done it didn't wake her, for her eyes were closed peacefully and a tiny smile graced her lips. She would almost look asleep if it hadn't been for the blood soaked into her sheets and dripping onto the floor.

I held back another sob as I caught sight of the bloody footprints leading away from my aunt and towards the door. I quickly took a step back to examine the floor beneath my feet and didn't see any evidence of blood in the dark hallway. I glanced around the room. Where was Misty?

I frantically searched the room from the entrance, not wanting to step into the place where my aunt's body lay. My sister was nowhere in the room. I took a step backwards and then raced to my bedroom. Everywhere else I had looked in before making my way towards the hallway and she hadn't been there. She had to be in my room.

My feet skid as I stopped and my body slammed into my door. It smashed open and I didn't notice that it never crashed into the wall. I paused for only a second to take in the mess of my room. Most of my drawings had been ripped from the wall and were in shredded pieces all over the floor. The stool that sat in front of the window looked as if it had been thrown across the room and into the wall since it was missing two legs and the seat was cracked. My mirror had been shattered and the glass was scattered across the floor. My bed was as I had left it earlier in the day.

I hurried into the room and fell to the floor to look under my bed to see if my sister was hiding underneath it. The only thing under my mattress was the roughed up stuffed bunny my sister had named Knots. I slipped to my stomach and stretched to reach it. I was half under, my fingers just touching the small rabbit, when something slapped onto the floor next to me. I jumped and my head hit the frame of my bed. I hurriedly scooted out from under my bed and folded over my sisters toy.

My eyes moved from the torn picture of Skittery to the medium sized worn down leather book sitting next to me. I knew my eyes widened at the sight of it and I grabbed for it. Before my fingers could grab onto my sketch pad, a booted foot was slamming down onto my hand, securing it to the floor.

I let out a cry of pain.

"Nice to see you again, Madeline."

Where were my newsie friends when I so desperately needed them?


	12. What's a door gonna do ta you'se?

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 12!

**Spotted Dancer  
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******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Twelve - What's a door gonna do ta you'se?**

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I tried pulling my fingers from under the foot pinning them to the floor. My other hand let go of Knots and started tugging at the booted ankle. The persons leg wouldn't budge. They leaned more weight down onto my hand and I held back a wail of pain as I felt a piece of my shattered mirror dig into the palm of my hand. I let that shriek out as the foot lifted for a brief moment, and before I could pull my hand away, the boot slammed back down onto it.

The scream was cut off as my teeth bit into my bottom lip. I could feel droplets of blood drip down my chin and I gave a ragged sigh in relief as my hand was finally released. I swiftly cradled my quickly swelling hand to my chest. I could immediately tell that at least two of my fingers were broken.

"Now, now, Madeline, everything will be alright."

I blinked back tears and attempted to keep my fear at bay. I couldn't hold back the whimper of pain or the sob that escaped my bloody lips. I could hear the man's knees pop as he kneeled down in front of me, and I flinched as he lifted my chin with his forefinger.

The man kneeling before me wasn't Robert Filly. At least, that's what I had thought. Until he sneered at me and I glimpsed one of his front teeth missing. He looked much thinner then the last time I had seen him. His cheeks were almost completely hollow and there were deep bruises under his eyes. The clothes he was wearing were, literally, hanging off his body and the only thing holding his pants up was a black, worn out belt cinched tight. His dark hair was in a disarray and it looked as if it hadn't been washed in months. His eyes were the same though, and this was the main reason that I knew the man standing in front of me was Robert.

His cold, dark, almost black, colored eyes stared back at me in disgust. Those onyx orbs grew angry as my sobs got louder. His fist lashed out and I tumbled to my side. I felt my head connect with my wooden bed frame.

Stars exploded behind my eyelids and I moaned due to both the pain from my skull hitting the bed and from my injured hand, which I had momentarily forgotten about, when I set it down to catch myself. The ache in my head was mild compared to the severe torture taking place under the skin of my fingers.

"I've been looking all over for you."

I squinted up at him through the pain as he stood and started pacing. I grimaced and looked down at the back of my hand, seeing the dark liquid drip onto the floor underneath it. I slowly turned it over and cringed at the blood running from the gash in my palm. Robert kicked at my foot and I steadied myself on the floor with my good hand. I glanced up and watched him slam his fist against the wall opposite my bed. I noticed that his closed hand landed only inches away from the sketch I had done of a certain newsboy's eyes. I silently hoped he never took the chance to look anywhere but the blank spot his eyes were focused on.

"All over the place is where I've been looking for you and that brat sister of yours. First I started in California. Asked around. Tried to find word that you had gone to the police to report what had happened."

I clenched my eyes shut as he became distracted with peeking through the curtains and into the dark street. I let my good hand rest over my injured one, my fingers lightly touching the glass sticking out from the skin. I mentally prepared myself for what I was about to do, taking a deep breath as I did so. I bit my already bloodied lip, fingers now trying to grasp the piece of slippery mirror, and jerked my hand away.

I almost wasn't able to muffle the scream that erupted from my throat. I turned my head at the last second and bit into my shoulder. I let the medium sized piece of glass fall to the floor, wincing at the slight clinking noise it made as it found its place on top of a drawing of a ripped off hand holding a folded newspaper.

"-I looked all over, Madeline. Looked in every nook, every hidden alley, in every garbage pile. Guess what I found?"

I turned my head to wipe at the tears on my face with my shirt sleeve. I felt a hand grip my arm and heave. I cowered back only to be jerked right into the face of Robert.

"Guess what I found!"

The menacing tone of his voice had me nervously shaking my head. He threw my arm away from him as if it were diseased and I fell onto my back, staring up at him in fright.

"I. Found. Nothing."

I shuffled slightly, carefully aware of my hand as I moved away from him.

"Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing."

He started laughing now, a crazed throaty chortle. It lasted only seconds before his nose was touching mine and he was blowing his rank breath at my face.

"Nothing," he whispered. "At least, not until I heard something about two little girls buying train tickets years later."

I scrambled backwards, my feet sliding on torn sheets of paper. Robert stood back up and watched with a sadistic glint to his eyes. My hand landed on the forgotten sketch book and I glanced down and flipped it open hurriedly. I finally came to a picture of Misty, one where she was sleeping, and shoved it away from me so Robert could see it. He stared at the drawing for a few moments before bending down to pick it up. He studied the bloody fingerprints now imprinted on the page and edges of the leather bound book.

He tilted the book this way and that before lowering his hands and raising an eyebrow at me. I gestured furiously at the sketchpad. He let out a loud sigh and kneeled back down in front of me. I scurried backwards on my elbows until my neck hit the edge of the bed frame.

"Do not move away from me, Madeline."

I froze.

"Hmm," Robert glanced down at the drawing of my sister before flipping to peer at the other pictures. "It seems that your sister is not here with us at this moment."

I licked at my lips, the coppery taste filling my mouth. I felt the need to take that gathered blood and spit it out at Robert. I would have enjoyed the look of disgust grace his features as he wiped it away.

The look currently on Robert's face terrified me to the point that any thought of doing something to make him even more angry was quickly pushed away. I stretched my neck to see what made him glare down at my sketchpad. He had come across a drawing I had done of my mother.

I scrambled to my feet as he swiftly stood, still staring at my leather book, and I took small steps towards the door. I flinched as he suddenly started tearing page after page out of the book. He was yelling out nonsense, bringing back the memory of the night he had murdered my mother. I let out a sob at the thought of the source of my being alive.

Robert stopped his destruction of my sketchpad. I slapped my unhurt hand over my mouth to quiet the rest of the sobs starting to leak out. My hand muffled them, but obviously not enough for my step-father had let my ruined sketchpad fall carelessly to the floor. He turned towards my hunched over form, my arm cradled to my waist and blood dripping down past my elbow and onto my skirt.

"I'm not done with you, Madeline."

He came at me before I could even blink. Hit me before I could take a breath. Pushed me to the floor before I could cry out. Ripped at my clothes before I could get my voice to finally work to call for help. Had his hands all over my body before I could even think of something to take away the pain of his fingers digging into my hips.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself where nobody could hurt me, not even Robert Filly.

* * *

Spot let his head fall back as he stretched his arms into the sky. He let out a groan of relief as his muscles pulled from their cramped position. Being stuck in a stuffy room with roughly thirty other boys, most of them bigger then him, and then quickly being hustled into the court room to have his fate determined by a balding judge, he decided, was not the way to start out the day.

Many of his boys had already started the trek back to Brooklyn. Spot had stayed because Denton needed to talk with all the newsies about something of importance. The Manhattan newsboys were still struggling to catch their balance as their eyes adjusted to the bright morning sunlight. Spot chuckled as Kid Blink and Mush grabbed onto each other as they righted their feet and staggered down the street past him and towards the restaurant.

"ey, Spot."

The Brooklyn newsie let his arms fall back to his sides and turned his head slightly from its position to see Racetrack from the corner of his eye.

"'ey, Race."

"We'se don't gots much time 'fore we'se needs ta be at Tibby's. Ya wanna head wid me ovah dere or do you'se gots othah things ta do?" Racetrack said this as he touched his tender eye, wincing as his finger made contact with the darkening skin.

Spot turned fully to face his friend and shrugged his shoulders while stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'se was thinkin of goin ovah ta Maddie's ta see if she gots home all righ'. Not dat I don't trust Dodger ta get 'er home safely, I just needs ta know."

The Italian nodded his head and rubbed at his other eye. "She's probably down at Tibby's righ' now. 'er an Misty Eyes, I think, ah workin taday. Jus' head ovah wid me-"

"SPOT!"

The two, plus many other newsies still nearby, swung their heads around to see a small body round the corner. The tiny being slid on a wet patch of cobblestone, his boots catching on the rough road, and almost fell head first into the street. He quickly caught himself on the brick building to his right and continued forward.

"SPOT!"

Spot finally recognized the small boy as he stumbled once again, this time falling to his knees. It was Patches. Patches jumped back to his feet, his hands clenched tightly into fists, and he almost ran into Racetrack as he came to a full stop in front of the two.

The boys breathing was erratic as he tried to speak. "Some-Mad-Dea-...Sar-"

Racetrack's face gained a look of concern as he bent down to be level with Patches. "Slow down dere, Patches. Take a deep breath 'fore tryin 'gain."

"Must've forgotten ta tell da king dat he pulled 'is belt too tight," A hushed voice said nearby.

Snickers were heard and Spot pivoted on his feet to see a group of Harlem newsies huddled against the wall of the court house watching Patches.

"Mind ya own business!" He growled at them. They looked startled that Spot had turned on them before shuffling down the street, looking over their shoulders to see Spot's hardened gaze still on them.

"Spo-" Coughing interrupted the speaker.

Spot spun back around and kneeled down next to Racetrack in front of Patches. "What's wrong? What 'appened?"

Patches took a deep breath and lifted his head to give a dead stare at Spot. He looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, his clothes were wrinkled, and his hair was a mess. Spot nodded his head to indicate for him to start talking.

"Sara's dead."

It took moments before either Spot or Racetrack could say anything.

"But Jack got 'er out last nigh-"

"Cowboy got 'er and Les out safely-"

"Not David's sistah Sarah. Sara!"

Racetrack shared a confused glance at Spot.

"Who do you'se means, Patches?"

Tears came to Patches eyes. "Dere was blood everywhere."

Realization came to the gamblers eyes. "Aunt Sara, Patches? Is dat who you'se mean?"

Patches mournfully nodded his head.

Racetrack quickly stood, Spot still looking from the younger boy to the older one, confused. He slowly stood and glanced down as Patches latched onto one of his faded red suspenders, almost pulling it off of his shoulder.

"What's wrong Ra-"

Racetrack shushed Spot and kneeled back down. He peeled Patches fingers from Spot and held his shoulders. "Where's Madeline, Patches?"

Patches wiped at his running nose.

"Patches! Where's Madeline?"

Spot pulled Racetrack back as he started shaking the kid's shoulders frantically.

"Spot, somethin's 'appened ta Madeline's aunt," Racetrack worriedly ran his fingers through his already messy hair. "He said somethin about dere bein blood everywhere. Somethin's wrong."

The Manhattan newsie started rambling things Spot couldn't understand. The only words he could comprehend were 'Madeline' 'blood' and 'aunt Sara'. Spot shoved at Racetrack to break the stupor he was in. Racetrack gazed back at him with a blank stare.

"You'se take Patches back ta da diner wid you'se. Don't interrupt me'se Race, take 'im. I'se will go's and check on Maddie."

Racetrack slowly nodded. "She's in da apartments righ' across from the Lodgin House."

"It's on da third floor." Patches quietly whispered.

It was only after a quick look of worry from Racetrack that Spot took off running down the street.

* * *

It took Spot at least twenty minutes of pushing through the early morning crowds, running into unsuspecting people as he crashed past them around the street corners, before he found himself on the street the Manhattan Newsboy Lodging House rested on. He stopped for a brief second in front of the house his friends lived in before crossing the road and jumping up the stoop steps directly across from the Lodging House.

Spot's breathing was haggard from the workout he had just gotten, and as he stared up at the flight of stairs in front of him, he gained a feeling of uneasiness. He hastily ran up the steps two at a time. He almost ran into a middle aged man leaning against the banister and Spot had to angle his body to dodge the man.

The newsie quickly caught his breath, the man staring him down with a hardened glare. Spot glared right back before asking, "Do you'se knows what apartment Sara and 'er two nieces are livin in?"

The man stiffly nodded to the door at the end of the hall. "Tell 'em that I'm not payin for that door to be fixed. They'll need to get the money to me by next week."

Spot rotated on his feet to see the beaten door at the end of the hallway. Someone had forced their way through the doorway by bashing into it with a blunt object until it opened. The man, having giving someone, even if it was a dirty teenage street urchin, the news on the apartment, stepped away from the banister and followed the stairs up to the next floor.

Spot rubbed the sweat off his face and apprehensively made his way towards the broken door. He tapped it lightly and it swung open easily. He looked up to see it was only hanging on one hinge. The front room was an absolute mess. A basket was tipped on its side, balls of yarn and sewing supplies strewn across the floor. The sofa had been flipped onto its back, and after looking more closely, Spot saw that there was dried blood dried into the floorboards.

He quickly looked away from the dark stain and stepped on what looked like crushed china dishes as he started towards the back of the apartment. The three doors lining the walls were closed. None of them gave any indication to there being something wrong, so Spot stepped past the first two and let his fingers circle the doorknob to the third. He carefully leaned against the door and it opened only inches before Spot was slamming it shut and trying to control the bile rising in his throat.

He spat out what little vomit came up and rested his head against the wall. Patches had been right. There was blood everywhere, and the aunt of Misty and Madeline was dead. Spot controlled his breathing and closed his eyes, whispering a quick prayer and opening the door and allowing his eyelids to raise over his stormy irises. He was only able to give the room a fast glance before he had to slam the door shut again to cut of the gory sight from his view.

After catching his breath one more time, Spot turned to the other two doors. He faltered at the one on the right, not wanting to see another gruesome sight. He briskly decided to leave that one for last and instead walked another few feet to come to the first door he had passed. It felt less frightening then the other. He hesitated once again.

"C'mon Spot. You'se is da King a Brooklyn. What's a door gonna do ta you'se?" Spot shifted on his feet and rubbed his hand down his face. "Well, one ting dis doors gonna do ta me'se is hide something on da othah side dat I'se don't really wants ta see. Like Madeline dea-"

He couldn't finish his sentence. Spot gathered all his courage and twisted the door handle. He pushed the door in. Ripped papers littered the floor, the window was curtain-less and he took notice to the fabric on the floor beneath the window sill. A cracked stool, looking as if it had been flung against the wall, was upright in the middle of the room. The few sheets of paper, which Spot recognized as drawings, nailed to the wall were, for the most part, still intact. Only a few were torn in half and still hanging up. The bed was in the far corner of the room, its sheets rumpled, blanket half hanging off the the mattress, and the pillow sitting serenely on the floor.

A lone leather book sat innocently on the floor near the bed. Spot glanced around at the wreckage before taking a step in the room. He watched where he stepped, cringing as he saw blood among some of the ripped pages on the floor. He was stooping down to pick up the book when he heard it.

Spot froze, his hand just barely grazing the edge of the worn leather. A scratching noise, like someone running their fingernails along the wall. Spot forgot about the book and instead stood hunched over as still as a statue, listening.

Someone yelled from the street beyond the window and he momentarily peered through it to the building across the way. A whimper sounded throughout the room. Spot immediately dropped to his knees and shoved the blanket aside to look under the bed.

A curled up figure was pushing themself against the wall away from the open side of the bed where he was kneeling. Their arms were wrapped tightly around an old dirty stuffed rabbit. In the few seconds Spot had been looking at this person, he almost couldn't determine who it was. Their hair was covering most of their face, their knees held against their chest and the dress on their body torn and shredded. It wasn't until a pair of light green eyes stared absently past him that he finally knew who it was.

"Madeline."

Madeline shuffled away from him even more, her arms resting around her knees and gripping the rabbit under her chin. Spot slowly lowered himself to lay flat on his stomach on the floor.

"Ah you'se ok, Maddie?"

The girl huddled under the bed gave a pitiful whimper. Spot shifted closer, and his hand slowly inched itself towards her. Madeline let out a broken sob and frantically tried to push herself farther away from Spot and into the wall.

Spot drew his hand back . "S'ok Maddie, I'se not gonna hurt you'se. You'se knows who I'se am, don't ya."

Madeline squeezed her eyes shut, shedding tears into her hair.

"It's Spot, an you'se is safe now."

* * *

When I had heard footsteps outside my door leading towards aunt Sara's room I had pulled from my blank state and struggled to push myself further under the bed. I had heard the slams of the doors and thought Robert had come back to get rid of my aunt and to finish me off. He said he would be back. I just didn't know when.

I hadn't a clue if it was still dark out or if it had turned to daylight. I didn't know how much time had passed since Robert had his fingers on my bare skin. I only knew the silence after he had fastened his pants back up and left the room, the apartment even.

So, sitting in the deathly silence I had waited. Waited for what, I didn't really know. Maybe I had been waiting for someone to find me, to come and realize what my step-father had done to me. Maybe I was just waiting for death to come and take me away from the misery flowing through my body. I waited. And waited, and waited. Nobody had come. I came out of my stupor long enough to find Knots and hug him tightly to me, wincing as my slowly numbing fingers jolted slight pain throughout my hand and up my arm. I could feel a bruise starting to form on my cheek, and a large bump began to rise on the back of my head from where I had hit the bed frame.

I had clasped my torn clothes closer around me and just lay there under my bed. I did nothing else but think of my younger sister. Robert had said nothing other then that she wasn't with us right at that moment. I didn't know where she was.

Now, as I cringe away from the voice of a male, one who I automatically think is Robert, I wish that Spot was here to save me.

"Madeline."

My mind made the voice sound as if it were going to harm me, to cause malicious intent. I shuffled away from the voice, my back hitting the wall. I held Knots closer to me.

"Ah you'se ok, Maddie?"

It was Robert asking me if I was ready for round three. I gave out a whimper. I didn't want him to touch me again. My eyes drifted to the form lying on the floor in front of me. Their hand started towards me. I let out a broken sob and frantically tried to push myself farther away from the unknown person reaching for me.

Their hand drew back. "S'ok Maddie, I'se not gonna hurt you'se. You'se knows who I'se am, don't ya."

The voice was starting to sound like someone else, someone familiar. I closed my eyes and let my mind play its mean tricks on me. Tears drifted down my cheeks and into my hair without my permission. One last one went over the curve of my nose.

"It's Spot, an you'se is safe now."

My eyes popped open. Spot? Spot was here? It took a moment for my eyes to focus, and when they did, the teenager lying on the floor almost halfway under the bed finally contorted from a blurry mess into the worried Spot Conlon.

A sob of relief wandered from my dry, cracked lips.

Spot must have known that I finally knew who he was because he gave me a look of concern and once again reached for me. I let his hand rest on the arm surrounding Knots and felt it pull me from underneath the bed. I held back a cry of pain as the movement had my broken fingers running across the floor.

When I was half way out Spot grabbed me under my armpits and hoisted me off the floor and into an embrace. I let his arms circle my waist, my unharmed hand holding Knots resting between both our bodies and my hurt one hanging low so he wouldn't squeeze it into the hug he had pulled me into. I struggled to get closer, my nose filling up with his scent. Ink, sweat, and something like cinnamon. My forehead rested on his neck and I could feel his heart evening out from its sporadic beating.

Spot pulled back and pushed the knotted strands of hair away from my face. He grimaced as he glimpsed the bruise on my face, my left eye closing slightly due to the swelling. I hissed as his fingers brushed across my cheek and over my scabbed bottom lip.

"Sahrry. Who did dis, Maddie?"

I shook my head and pulled myself back into his arms. His warm, strong, _safe_ arms. He sighed and reached for my hand. I cried out as his fingers met mine. Spot immediately jumped away and softly held my hand up for him to see. Two of the fingers were swollen, deeply bruised, and looking very nasty. As I already knew, my pinky and ring finger on my left hand were broken. Spot grew angry at the sight of my hand.

"Who did dis, Madeline?"

I shook my head sharply.

"You'se needs ta tell me, Maddie. What happened?"

Sobs burst from between my lips and Spots eyes grew softer and he drew me in for another hug. I whimpered as my left hand brushed against my thigh.

He swiftly stepped away. "We'se needs ta get dat looked at. Hold on, I'se will be right-"

I was suddenly terrified. If Spot left then that meant Robert would be back to do something worse then violate my body. I shifted Knots to my elbow and clutched at Spot's sleeve.

_Don't leave me._

Spot froze. He slowly turned his head back in my direction and whispered, "What did you'se say?"

"Don't leave me, Spot," a cracked, unused voice murmured an answer to his question.

It was mine.


	13. I Screamed

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 13!

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(7/10/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Thirteen - I screamed**

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There was a sharp pain as the old man in front of me put a splint on my two broken fingers. I managed to clamp my mouth shut before the scream filled the mid-morning air. He set my hand down lightly onto my thigh and quickly lifted his shaky hands to the bruise on my face.

"The bone in your cheek doesn't seem to be broken," he gently prodded the edge of the dark mass. "Does it hurt when I touch here?"

I winced and gave a small nod.

"Alright, but does it hurt as bad as your fingers do when I'm moving them around?"

A torturous burn was registered as he barely even skimmed my pinky. I immediately decided that the pain in my face didn't even come close to the one lingering through my hand.

"Not as bad."

I was surprised when he nodded his gray head. I was talking so softly that I thought he would have problems hearing me. He just adjusted the splints around my fingers and continued on with wrapping them up.

"This should help with your movement. You're going to want to move these two fingers here, but try not to. I'm going to bandage them up together so you're not accidentally catching them on anything and separating them. That would hurt like the dickens."

Kloppman, as that's what just about every newsie in the Manhattan Lodging House called the man that ran the place, was a very soft spoken, gentle old person. He took one look at the sight of me and became very, what's the word...paternal. He was acting as if he was with a niece or granddaughter instead of a complete stranger. I had pulled back from him the first time he approached me and he took it in stride by speaking to me as if I were a small child, asking me to have a seat so he could take a look at my wounds. I finally let him after a firm grip pushed me down to sit down on the stool offered to me. The ink stained fingers released Knots down into my arms and I adjusted him so he wouldn't fall off my lap.

The stool was uneven on one leg, so as Kloppman moved from my hand to my head, I silently held one edge of the chair and moved so I was rocking back and forth. The old man let me do it, never complaining as I swayed when he went to check the lump on the back of my head. I tilted again as he came back around to my front and gently pried apart my lips, swiftly bending to get a better look.

As he quietly tutted over my bottom lip, I studied the elderly gentleman before me. His face was filled with frown lines surrounding his mouth and crows feet at the corners of his eyes. His hair was almost completely gray, but there were still a few strands of what his hair color might have been when he was younger. Brown, just like the eyes hidden behind the small wiry spectacles pushed up across his nose.

Kloppman was old, as I've already mentioned, and walked with a sort of hunched over gait. It wasn't bad enough that he was bending at the waist, but it was obviously evident that he was ailing from back pains. And as he angled down slightly to examine my lip, I was out in the open, free for the gray eyes to survey me. Kloppman had been standing in front of me for most of the time that he had been taking care of me. Whenever he left to get supplies or to check on the back of my head, Spot was visible from across the room.

He hadn't stopped looking at me since the Manhattan caretaker had sat me down on the tilting stool. If Kloppman were ever in front of me, Spot's body would angle so he would once again be watching me, this time almost sideways. I didn't have the nerve to tell him that it was bothering me to some degree. That staring at me was bringing back memories of the night before. I couldn't tell him that though, or his eyes would never come into contact with me again. He would be too hesitant about glancing at me to make sure I was alright if I ever told him that.

He was staring at me, but not at _me_. Not really_. _Spot Conlon was too busy vigilantly focusing on my mouth. He was waiting for me to speak again, I knew. To speak of, and about, anything. When I responded to Kloppman's question about the pain, I briefly saw Spots eyes light up at the gravelly sound of my unused voice.

I didn't see how he could be so fascinated with it, it sounded rather annoying to me. I was constantly clearing my throat and swallowing as the uncomfortable feeling of the pronunciation of words traveled from behind my teeth to my barely open lips. I almost couldn't stand it, but I was slowly getting used to sentences actually coming out of _me_ instead of on paper.

"Alright, dear, I do believe I've done all I can," Kloppman announced as he stepped away from me.

Spot jumped up from his place nearby to come closer to examine the old mans work.

"If you have any problems at all, come and see me," Kloppman then turned to Spot. "Don't let her leave for a while. I have a feeling that she's going to go into some kind of shock sooner or later."

The Brooklyn newsie nodded his head and muttered, "We'se gots most of 'er stuff out of da 'partment. Hopefully she won't needs ta leave fa a couple days. Can she stay 'ere, least till tamorrow."

Kloppman's face showed worry as he agreed. "Till tomorrow, Spot."

Spot left my side to go back to where all the things we had gathered from the apartment were stashed. Kloppman pat my head, careful of the bump, and went behind the counter and through a door into the back room. I slowly stood from the wobbly stool, clutching Knots before he fell to the floor, and took a few hesitant steps towards Spot.

He moved a few things off the dirty and grim looking sofa he had previously been sitting on, making room for more then one person. He glanced up after removing a stack of ripped papers, my drawings, and saw me take a few more tentative steps. Spot finally waved me towards him. I hurried over as he dropped down onto one of the cushions, gesturing for me to take a seat beside him. I timidly sat and pulled my knees up to my chest, huddling into Spot's side.

He threw an arm around my neck and I settled closer to the warmth radiating from his body. My head rested on his chest, my arms gently cradling Knots, and my eyes were slowly closing and opening, resisting slumber.

"Get some sleep, Mads. I knows you'se needs it."

And with that, I fell victim to my dreams.

* * *

_I woke up in the dark. I could barely see anything, and there was almost no light filtering throughout the room. I quickly sat up, the blanket falling from my body and pooling around my waist. I brushed back a lock of hair from my face, immediately looking down as there was no pain streaming up my arm. The fingers on my left hand were perfectly fine. Creamy, white, smooth skin, with cared for nails. There were no dark bruises or swelling. No broken bones._

_After thoroughly examining my fingers, then raising them to my face to find no kind of injury there either, I glanced at the room. I could just barely see the shape of a dresser sitting against the wall nearest the door, an oval mirror standing up to the side of it. The bed I was seated on was in the far corner away from the door next to the window. A small stool sat near the bed, a candle holder set upon it. _

_I pulled the blankets away from my legs and cautiously lowered my feet to the floor. The tips of my toes had just reached the floorboards when I heard a small, almost unnoticeable, noise coming from the door. It was at that moment that I realized I was in my bedroom._

_I quickly slipped from the bed and stood next to the window. A scratching sound came from the door and I warily peeked through the curtains covering the window panes. It was completely black behind the glass. There wasn't even light shining from the lamp post on the street corner. I couldn't see anything other then my reflection in the clear window._

_Something banged on the wall across from me and I hugged myself, back to the wall, and slid to the side towards the corner of the room. I reached it and held my hands out as it got even darker so I wouldn't run into anything. _

_BANG!_

_I jumped and gasped loudly._

_BANG!_

_Again I jumped, this time holding my breath._

_BANG!_

_I slid against the wall, hands running along the wallpaper behind me, and took careful steps towards where the sound was coming from. Behind the door._

_BANG!_

_No, not the door._

_BANG!_

_BANG!_

_BANG!_

_From the dresser next to the door._

_BANG!_

_BANG!_

_The mirror next to the bureau rattled and then finally crashed the the floor. I gave a scream of surprise. It wasn't heard as the banging got louder and louder with each hit._

_BANG!_

_The sound of nails scratching against wood reached my ears as I came closer. I surveyed the area around the dresser before finally figuring out where the deafening noise was coming from._

_BANG!_

_More scratching._

_BANG!_

_It was coming from inside the wardrobe._

_BANG!_

_I reached the wooden armoire and cautiously let the tips of my fingers touch the small, round, metal handles to the two hinged doors. A piercing wail rang out through the room and I hastily lifted my hands to clutch at my head._

_"MADDIE!" A strangled sort of wail made me remove my fingers from my ears._

_"PLEASE HELP ME! MADDIE!"_

_A screeching cry. _

_BANG!_

_BANG!_

_Sobbing echoed around me as I stared at the dark wood in front of me._

_Movement was heard from within the dresser and then it was silent. My hand unwillingly reached to find out what was behind the doors. I grasped the metal, finding it extremely cold to the touch, and was about to pull when there was another loud howl of anguish. _

_I stumbled backwards and the door opened as my hand was suddenly glued to the small doorknobs. I tripped over my feet, landing on my bottom, and hurriedly darted backwards on my elbows. One of the long wooden doors swung open slowly, giving off an eerie groan. I shifted uneasily on the floor as I stared into the darkness. The door was fully open now and I could see the back of the dresser from where I was seated. There was nothing in it. It was when I moved to push myself up that I saw it and froze._

_The door that had opened was covered in marks embedded in the soft top layer of wood. Some were long, others were short, but the thing that had me frozen, was the blood still dripping down some of the marks. Somebody had been trying to scratch their way out of the armoire just moments before I had opened it._

_Something stirred inside the dresser and my horror filled gaze drifted from one door to the next. I impulsively slapped a hand over my mouth when something grasped the edge of the door. The fingers were covered in blood and I grimaced as I noticed that a few of the fingernails were missing. A tiny pale foot came into view and along with it came a small body dressed in a ragged, faded yellow dress._

_Its head was tilted down as the rest of its body dropped from the bottom of the bureau and onto the floor. It lay there, just a few scant steps from my feet in front of me, and didn't move. _I _didn't want to move. I had a feeling that if I even took too deep of a breath that it would finally present me with its horrific gaze. I took a small, shaky breath before moving my limp body backwards, my arms the only thing holding me up._

_It's head snapped up and I screamed as I was abruptly looking into the dull green eyes of my younger sister. Another scream got caught in the back of my throat and tears were suddenly fighting to be released._

_"Misty," I whispered._

_Misty tilted her head to the side as if she were listening to something that was hard to hear. "Yes."_

_"Wh-what happened?"_

_It seemed as if she didn't hear what I had asked. Instead, she pulled herself so she was crouched on her hands and knees. It was silent for another few minutes._

_"...Robert happened," she stated as she lifted a hand and examined the fingernails left connected to the skin. She didn't look the least bit worried as she took in all the blood and the two nails missing._

_"Daddy-Dearest," she spat out. "Is what happened."_

_I was silent as she finished with one hand and lowered it to the floor before raising the other one. She scowled at the blood. I figured that she would have started to get hysterical as her mind finally registered the color and pain. All she did was blow back and forth across her fingers as if she were drying a fresh coat of fingernail paint._

_Without warning, she was suddenly in front of me, her face only inches away from mine. My body jolted backwards and my head landed on the floor. Her hands encased my head on both sides and her legs were straddling my waist. Her long hair was a mess and I could only see one of her eyes as it hung in her face. The visible eye stared at me, filled with misery. The misery quickly turned to anger._

_"Look at what he did to me!"_

_She sat up and jerked the neckline of her dress to the side. I flinched and clenched my eyes shut as I saw the hand shaped bruise surrounding her throat, the deep gash in her shoulder, and the bite mark just underneath her chin._

_"Look at it, Madeline!"_

_I furiously shook my head, and if were possible, I closed my eyes even tighter. She shifted closer, her thighs squeezing my hands to my sides._

_"LOOK!"_

_My eyes shot open. She was gazing down at me, her eyes watering. _

_"Look at what he did," she said softly. I looked, and once again I shut my eyes tight._

_"Maddie. He did bad things to you, and to me...What are you going to do about it?"_

_I tried to take a breath, but it was complete agony as it rested in my lungs._

_"Are you just going to sit there as he continues to do this to us? To me?"_

_My head tilted back and I looked through heavily lidded eyes at the window above my head._

_"ANSWER ME!"_

_"I'm sorry! I can't do anything, I'm not strong enough." I gave a strangled cry. A lone tear wandered from my eye and made its way down into my hair. I tipped my head and saw that Misty was watching the tear's path._

_"Is that all you're going to do then? Is cry?" _

_I started sobbing as her bloody hand came to rest in my hair. She drew her hand into a fist, my hair clenched between her fingers._

_"I can cry too y'know? Robert's caused me to do it so many times that I can do it on command. Wanna see?"_

_I shook my head, not having energy to do much more then that. She lowered her head down to my chest and I felt her cheek lay over where my heart rested. Misty stayed like that for what felt like forever, and I was pinned underneath her in silence. I moved my right hand to gently push her off of me when her shoulders started shaking. I paused._

_The sobs were wracking through her hard enough that her whole body started to shiver. Her blond covered head finally lifted from listening to my heart. I immediately tried to shove her off of me._

_Misty's eyes were a no longer their usual green color and there were red tears traveling down her face and off her chin. She grinned down at me maliciously with dark eyes as the tears landed on my nightdress. _

_"Neat, huh?"_

_It wasn't her voice. This was not Misty. This was not my little sister. This was Robert, and he was crying my sister's blood from his eyes without regret or guilt._

_I screamed._


	14. Who touched 'er?

Thanks to those of you reviewed for chapter 14!

**elleestJenn  
MushSpotgoil  
chaoticmom  
smallncrazy91  
Cassidy  
Nichole  
Eavis  
LivingByWill  
XxxEFreakxxX  
Royal shadow1  
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(7/10/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Fourteen - Who touched 'er?**

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Spot shifted, and the sleeping girl leaning against him snuggled more deeply into his embrace. She pulled her knees more tightly to her chest, cradling her injured hand close to her body. The ratty stuffed rabbit she had been holding was now loosely set on his lap, and Spot fingered its floppy ears. The newsie stroked the fingers of his other hand across her cheek, gently moving aside a lock of hair to brush it behind her ear. She stayed still, her silent breaths puffing across his neck.

Madeline had started talking, and it terrified Spot to know that the reason was because of a horrid incident. He had learned of her past from Racetrack, the loudmouth that he was, and only wanted her to talk as soon as she was ready. After hearing her speak for the first time, he knew she hadn't been ready. That her fear had forced the sounds out of her.

_"Don't leave me."_

Those soft spoken words coming from an uneven, cracked voice had surprised the hell out of him. He'd almost believed there had been another person hiding somewhere in the small room. He had turned his head and saw only Madeline looking back at him pitifully, the bruise on her face standing out on her pale skin.

_"Don't leave me, Spot."_

Her lips had barely moved, barely opened. It was almost as if she hadn't spoken at all. Spot knew though, that the unused voice had been hers. That she was pleading with him to never leave her. So he didn't.

As they gathered up some of the things Madeline had wanted, she stuck to his side like they were attached at the hip. Every time he turned to pick something up from the floor, she was there, huddled to his side and clutching at her belongings. When he moved to leave the room, her good hand was immediately fastened around his forearm.

_"What's through dis door, Maddie?"_

_"...She's gone."_

_"Who's gone, Madeline? Misty...or Sara?"_

_"Both. He's taken her. She's gone."_

_"Who's taken her?"_

_"Him. From here."_

_"Is dis...is dis Misty's room?"_

She was quiet after the question was asked and Spot had taken her silence as a yes.

_"Is dere anythin dat you'se wants from in 'ere?"_

Madeline kissed the rabbits head and them moved it to rub along her jawline, her eyes closing and her eyelashes lying softly on the tops of her cheeks.

_"Please don't open the door. I don't want to see."_

And so they moved on. She hadn't needed much, just a few articles of clothing and her drawings were what they mostly carried.

_"I don't want this,"_ she had said as she gazed at the broken dishes on the kitchen floor. _"It won't do me any good."_

It was after that that they had left the apartment, leaving the door hanging on one hinge swinging shut.

Spot breathed in deeply and then let it out slowly. Madeline most likely wouldn't ever go back to where her aunt was murdered, he surmised, so he needed to figure out where she would go. She could, of course, go live with him in Brooklyn. That would mean they would have to take the long trek across the busy bridge to reach it, and Spot had a feeling that Maddie wouldn't want to be around a lot of people at the moment.

They could go at night. He quickly disregarded that thought as fast as it had come up due to the potential danger of being outside in the darkness. Open for any attack from drunks or warring boroughs. Not that there were any boroughs showing hostility towards each other because of the strike. Well, with the exception of Midtown. Shredder was getting to _handsy_ for his own good.

And where was Misty? Maddie had said, "_He's taken her." _Who was _he_ and where had he taken the young girl. Spot had searched the apartment, there was no one else there besides the body of the girls' aunt.

_"He's coming back. Please don't let me be here when he gets back."_

_"How do you'se knows he's comin back?"_

_"...He said he would. He doesn't break his promises... That's why he's here."_

_"Here?"_

_"New York."_

The door to the Lodging House was shoved open and it slammed against the wall, knocking Spot away from the memory of Madeline's words. Loud, upset voices rang through the room and Spot cringed as Madeline stirred. He gently moved her off him and rose, laying her on her side on the sofa. He set the rabbit, Knots was what she had called it, down into her arms. She twisted around to face the back of the couch and Spot turned to the hoard of newsboys entering the room.

"Be quiet!"

Bumlets and Jake, who were halfway across the room towards him, froze as soon as they saw Spot standing next to a restless Madeline. They immediately turned to the rest of the teenagers and young boys storming through the door and quieted them down. Madeline whimpered in her sleep and Spot kneeled down to rub along her spine.

"All I'm saying is, we need to get him out of there as soon as-"

Somebody slapped a hand over the rest of David Jacobs' furious words. Racetrack pushed the teenager away from the door so he could find out why Swifty had silenced him. He took a glance around the room at the boys shuffling nervously before his eyes landed on the pile of miscellaneous items by the sofa. They drifted past the ugly print of the fabric and settled on the newsie soothing a sleeping Madeline.

Racetrack's mind jumped from worrying about Jack, to worrying about Madeline, Misty, and aunt Sara.

"Shit, I completely fergot. What 'appened?"

Spot put a finger over his lips to indicate to Racetrack that he needed to quiet his voice. Maddie whined in her sleep and the fingers of her uninjured hand clenched. Spot could see her fingernails dig into the skin of her palm. He ran his hand down her back one last time, sighing in relief as she relaxed slightly, and stood.

"Nobody touch 'er," he muttered quietly to the boys shuffling around the room apprehensively. "Racetrack, Mouth, follow me."

David and Racetrack crossed the room to comply to Spots request. They softly took the stairs up towards the bunk room. With one last glance down at Madeline over the second floor railing, Spot closed the door and swiveled around to the two newsies.

The short Italian took no time in opening his mouth. "What 'appened?"

Spot ran his hand over his face and studied the newsie in front of him. Racetrack looked weary and his dark eyes tired. His face looked better from earlier this morning, but the bruise around his eye was still visible.

"I remember Patches sayin somethin 'bout a lot of blood-"

"Blood!" David interrupted, swinging his head from Racetrack to Spot and back. "What do you mean blood?"

Spot would have rolled his eyes at David's hysterics, but he understood the feeling when the phrase 'a lot of blood' came up in a conversation. He silently wandered past the two, shouldering a wide eyed David aside to sit on one of the lower bunks. There was a sketch of a freshly baked pie, the steam frozen on the paper, nailed to the wall above his head. According to the drawing, which was obviously penciled by Madeline, this was Pie Eater's bed.

"Is Sara really de-..." Racetrack couldn't find it in himself to finish the sentence.

Spot slouched down and held his head in his hands. His fingers ran through his hair before he finally nodded.

Racetrack's breath caught in his throat. "Aw jeez."

David hesitantly took a step towards Spot. "Do you mean Madeline's aunt?"

Neither of the other two newsies answered his question. The gambler stumbled over his feet and landed next to Spot. He sat silently for a moment before jumping back up. "Where's Misty? Did you'se see 'er at all? Is she ok?"

Spot cleared his throat uncomfortably and his mouth tried to form words, but couldn't.

Racetrack took his muted response as bad news. "Damn it! What 'appened?"

The Brooklynite stood, becoming frustrated. "I'se 'ave no idea. Maddie won't say nothin othah den somethin 'bout a man takin 'er. She," He hesitated. "Talked."

"Wait, hold up! She's talkin?"

"Madeline spoke?"

"Yeah, but not undah good cir-circum-"

"Circumstances."

"Dat's it, thanks, Davey."

"So she's talkin, an dat's not a good thing?"

"No, it ain't."

"Why not?"

"Racetrack, you'se didn't see 'er when I got ta 'er 'partment. Two of 'er fingers ah broken, Race, broken. Misty's missing an 'er aunt is dead."

Spot started pacing back and forth while David took a seat next to Racetrack. "Is she alright? Does she need to see a doctor?"

"She's fine fa now, Kloppman took care of 'er. But..."

Racetrack raised his head and quickly inquired, "But?"

Spot paused his step and swallowed hard. "Da man dat did dis ta 'er did somethin else, an it's bad."

It took only a few seconds for both Racetrack and David to get the hidden meaning and then it was completely silent. Spot started pacing once again, his foot occasionally catching on an uneven floorboard or somebody's loose shirt.

David couldn't handle more then three minutes of nobody talking. "Denton didn't get the Sun to print the article."

Spot briefly wavered before continuing on.

Racetrack shook his head. "Dat's somethin else ta get angry 'bout now. 'Parrently da rally nevah 'appened."

"Whaddya mean it nevah 'appened? We was dere!"

"Yeah, dat's what I'se said. Denton rattled somethin off 'bout da papah, I'se didn't really listen since I'se had me mind stuck on da rally 'not 'appening'," Racetrack said this almost sarcastically.

"Denton's going back to doing the job he had before. Apparently a war over seas is more important then street rats striking on home turf," David sounded slightly defeated.

"But now we'se gots somethin else ta worry 'bout," Racetrack announced.

Spot stopped moving and leaned against the leg post of the bunk in front of them. "What is it?"

"Jack's practically become a prisoner at the Refuge, he has to stay there till he's twenty-one."

Racetrack carried on for David. "An we'se is bustin 'im out tanight."

The Brooklyn newsie blew out a fast breath. "Den we'se needs ta figure out a plan. Any idea-"

A blood curdling scream echoed from downstairs. The three exchanged glances before trying to get out the door at the same time. The scream was emitted again and Spot shoved the two aside to get out the door first. He hurdled past the kids staring through the railing on the staircase and thundered down the stairs, almost tripping down the last one. He hastily glanced around the room.

Mush sat on the floor with a surprised look on his face, looking as if he had been knocked backwards. Skittery was leaning over Mush's fallen form with his hands spread out in a calming gesture. He was making soothing sounds from the back of his throat. He wasn't trying to calm Mush down, but someone else. Someone who was curled up on the floor by the side of the couch.

Spot rushed forward, pushing newsies away to reach her. "Who touched 'er?"

Skittery backed up and Mush, still lying on the floor, immediately lifted his hand to point across the room at Kid Blink. The boy in question gave an aggravated sigh, rolled his one eye, and walked over to smack Mush's hand down.

"Idiot," he muttered while helping his best friend up. "He touched 'er, Spot, not me."

Mush gave an indignant huff and crossed his arms.

Spot grit his teeth. "I'se thought I'se told everybody not ta touch 'er."

"We'se weren't 'ere when you'se said dat, so when she started thrashin in 'er sleep-"

"He decided it would be best ta wake 'er up," Kid Blink finished Mush's sentence.

"How did she end up on da floor?"

The newsies around the room glanced at each other.

"How did she end up on da floor?" Spot growled out.

"She sorta... freaked out when Mush shook 'er 'wake," Skittery finally declared. "She scrambled ta get off da sofa ann fell backwards off da arm of it."

Spot composed himself before getting a good look at Madeline. When he had come into view she had settled down slightly, but her eyes were still wide and her breathing ragged and rough. She was in pain, he took notice, because her arms were cradled against herself and she winced every few seconds. She was also whimpering.

"Maddie-"

"He's coming back. Soon."

There were gasps from behind him and Spot shook his hand behind his back at the boys to be quiet.

"Who's comin back?"

She closed her eyes tightly and licked at the scab on her bottom lip.

"Robert... My-my step-father."


	15. Jeez, Spot's gonna kill me

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 15!

**chaoticmom  
XxxEFreakxxX  
smallncrazy91  
LivingByWill  
X-Scree Scree-X  
Eavis  
MushSpotgoil  
luvchyld21  
Autumn  
Austra**

(7/10/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Fifteen - Jeez, Spot's gonna kill me**

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"Ok, we'se needs ta figure out a plan."

"An a good one too."

"Somethin that's not gonna put us in jail."

"Preferably, but I don't think that's going to happen."

It went silent for a few moments.

"Any ideas yet?"

The question was accompanied by many "No"'s, "Nah"'s and "We ain't nevah gonna figure one out"'s.

Spot let out an aggravated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "We'se at least needs ta figure out who's goin on dis liddle trip."

David immediately made a gesture with his hand. "I'm definitely going."

Across the room Kid Blink and Mush quickly yelled out, "Us too!"

Spot glanced around the bunk room, pausing momentarily as he reached the bed just to his right, and came back to Racetrack who was sitting to his left. He raised an eyebrow.

The gambler rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, I'se will go."

"'K, so we'se gots at least four-"

"What bout you'se, Spot?"

"Not going," was his instant reply.

Nobody questioned his immediate response.

"Alright. Me an Les will stay here till tonight. I figure it's probably the best time to do this rescue mission. The darkness will keep us hidden from the cops. We also don't want any innocent bystanders getting hurt in case something goes wrong." David scratched at his nose and stared at the ceiling as he said this.

"Don't want dem gettin hurt?" Somebody mumbled. "More like don't want dem helpin da bulls wid rattin us out."

"Cause you'se would know all bout dat, wouldn't ya Snitch," Racetrack looked below a few top bunks to grin at the dark haired teen.

"Ah, shuddup, Race."

Teasing erupted throughout the room, and this gave Spot the chance to take a proper look at Racetrack's bunk. Madeline sat at the head of the bed with her legs folded beneath her. She was leaning against the wall behind her, her head tilting as she gazed at the worn down leather book set on her right thigh. She released the pencil that had been stuck to her hand for the past two hours from between the fingers of her right hand and tapped it against her chin. She frowned down at the paper.

Maddie bit at her bottom lip before setting the pencil between her teeth. She ran her good hand through the dirty blond head of hair settled on her lap. The small body involuntarily shivered as her fingers brushed against the back of their neck and she pulled on the blanket recently laid over them, tucking it more firmly into their sides. They immediately shifted and Knots, clenched in the body's hands, was now visible to the Brooklyn newsie.

Only Patches and Spot were able to go near Madeline so far. Anybody else that came within arms length got to witness a near breakdown as Maddie started crying and tried to dismiss anyone that came too close. The Manhattan newsboys decided to edge carefully around the bunk she was seated on after Snoddy's latest attempt at trying to talk to her.

She had burst into tears, murmured nonsense to herself, and then threw the closest thing she could find. She'd managed to encase her fingers around Racetrack's deck of lucky cards from the table next to her, and without taking her eyes off of Snoddy's wide-eyed form, she had chucked the small box at him. It nailed him right on the forehead and the room had echoed with laughter and Racetrack's loud voice bellowing out, "Told ya dey was lucky!"

A few of them had made a game out of it. See what body part Maddie could hit and with what. Some had discreetly eased items such as books, spoons, cups, and even a shoe, for her to hurl at whoever got within throwing distance. This was quickly stopped as she tossed more then one thing at once. That and Spot found out what was going on. After the Snoddy debacle, Spot stepped in and reprimanded everyone in the bunk room. Hence the three foot perimeter surrounding Madeline. As it was, Dutchy wouldn't be able to comfortably walk for at least another few hours. Spot was still grinning at the image of him doubling over in pain.

It was after this that Patches almost fell over from sleep deprivation. He shouldered off any helping hands and stumbled his way towards the bunk Maddie was stationed at. Several of the boys had tried to direct him to a different bed, even his own, but he kept going and finally dropped down in front of the silent girl. She'd given a dead stare towards his half lidded hazel eyes before moving the book off her lap and tilting her head down. He kicked his shoes off and she pulled Racetrack's thin pillow from behind her and set it underneath his head as he rested.

Spot leaned back and looked away from Madeline to where Snitch was jumping up from his bed. He laughed as the newsie pushed aside a snickering Itey to tackle Racetrack. They both tumbled to the floor and the stool Race had been sitting on flipped over as they went.

* * *

Half an hour later things had settled down and most of the newsboys were entrapped in watching the poker game set up in the middle of the bunk room. The only three left in the game were a suspicious Kid Blink, a relaxed Racetrack, and a bored looking Skittery. Spot smirked in amusement as he once again became a bystander of Mush glancing over Kid Blink's shoulder and frowning deeply. Racetrack glanced up to take notice of this, and of Kid Blink trying to hide his own look of disappointment. Kid fidgeted uncomfortably, his nails raking up and down his neck and leaving behind angry red lines as he scratched at his skin nervously.

Spot flicked his eyes from watching Race give a small smirk, to see Skittery yawn widely into his open hand. He was obviously becoming very disinterested in the game he was included in. Racetrack straightened his shoulders, making Spot's gaze dance back over to his form, and adjusted his hat. Spot rolled his eyes. Racetrack's tells were easy to spot and it surprised him that nobody had taken notice to the obviousness of them. He undoubtedly had a good hand.

"Alright...cards down," Kid Blink stated, his voice uncertain. He then laid down his hand of two fives, two eights, and an ace.

Racetrack gave a toothy grin at the other newsies hand before setting his cards down on the table. "Read 'em and weep boys."

Skittery blankly stared at the straight flush while Kid Blink slammed his fist onto the tabletop. Race, still grinning, reached for the meager winnings in the middle of the table. Skittery stayed Racetrack's sticky fingers when he laid his cards out and sat back with a bored expression on his face.

"Wha-dat's not pos-dere's no way!"

Everyone surrounding the table cheered as Skittery gathered up his win and nudged his five spades towards Racetrack. "Check it ta make shoah Race."

Racetrack immediately had his fingers all over the royal flush set before him. "I'se think you'se cheated."

Skittery looked at Racetrack incredulously. "Dis comin from da guy dat always cheats."

"I'se do not!"

"You'se do too!"

"I'se do-"

"He didn't cheat Race," David quickly interjected, trying to dispel the oncoming fight. "I've been watching him the whole time."

Racetrack gave David a bewildered look. "I'se thought you'se was on my side?"

David shrugged and went to answer, but was interrupted as Spot stood from his seat on the chair near Racetrack's bunk.

"Dat's it, knock it off. We'se don't have time fa dis," He glanced at the window and into the darkness. "'S bout time fa you'se guys ta be leavin."

The newsies around the room moved to clean up the mess they had made with the poker game, and the four who were chosen to go on the rescue mission gathered together near the door. Spot cleared his throat and sensed Madeline's hand make another stroke on the book in her lap from next to him. She tilted her head curiously as she glanced up at the teenagers shuffling stools past her stiffly. He took a quick look and glimpsed the shape of a womans face before Maddie was covering her drawing and her hair was hiding her face from view.

"Can I'se go wid 'em, Spot?"

Spot turned from Madeline to see Boots wringing his hat between his hands. "You'se is gonna have ta talk ta Davey, Boots. Ask 'im if dere's anythin you'se can do ta help."

Boots smiled and took off towards where David was waving his arms around and trying to explain something to the other three boys. The corners of Spot's lips lifted slightly as David nodded to whatever Boots had asked. It looked as if Boots wanted to give Davey a hug right then and there.

Spot shuffled his feet and closed his eyes while sighing. It had been a very tiring day. With barely getting any sleep the night before because of his night of imprisonment, high-tailing it to the apartment across from the Manhattan Lodging House, discovering Madeline's aunt dead, and rescuing Madeline, he was exhausted. Even when he was rolling his shoulders because of the tense muscles and closing his eyes and trying to relax, he knew his night was not over just yet.

He sat back down on the chair next to Racetrack's bed and swiveled so his knees were up against the mattress. Madeline shifted her body uncomfortably, her face grimacing because of her injured hand pushing down onto the pale gray sheets. She had been sitting in the _exact_ same spot for at least the last half of the day. Patches was still laid across the bed, his head on the thin pillow on her lap, sleeping. The only thing that had really changed was the blanket being pushed down to his waist, and the stuffed rabbit almost falling off the edge of the mattress.

Spot could hear her exhale softly as she hesitated, her fingers tight around the pencil, and the pencil inches above the leather book. She set it down on the paper and sat there silently as Spot watched her. He leaned across Patches' body, Maddie leaning backwards slightly, and plucked the rabbit from the small boys loose grip.

He ran his fingers over the dull gray body and the long ratty ears. It was missing an eye and only a tiny thread was left hanging from the fabric. The other eye was still attached; a small black button that stared back at him unblinkingly. Spot had a feeling that Knots was Misty's toy, and usually his perception was right most of the time.

"'ey, Spot!"

The Brooklyn newsie shifted his gaze from the rabbit to the doorway. David, Racetrack, Mush, Kid Blink, Boots and Les were all staring at him.

"What?"

"Do you have any rope stashed anywhere?"

Spot's brow crinkled as he frowned at the question. Before he could give them his negative answer, Racetrack had thrown his two cents in.

"Like... I'se don't know...In ya shirt?"

Spot rolled his eyes as Racetrack cracked up at his own joke.

"Nah, I'se don't gots any. I'se shoah dat Kloppman has some somewhere though." The six of them moved to exit the room and then paused as he continued on. "I'se will go down wid you'se, just give me a minute."

Spot turned back to Madeline and set Knots down onto the pillow next to Patches' head of messy hair. "Ah you'se hungry, Mads? It's been quite a while since you'se ate anythin."

Maddie was frozen for a few seconds. She slowly nodded her head, her long hair swaying back and forth. Spot stood back up and leaned back over Madeline. She remained still as he pushed her hair away from her face and examined the dark bruise over her left eye. She continued to stare down at the sleeping Patches. He shook his head, almost in disbelief, and then softly kissed her forehead.

* * *

I froze when Spot's fingers grazed my cheek as they pushed back the wall of hair away from my face. I peered down at the small shape of Patches' body under the blanket nervously while he appraised the mark on the left side of my face. My eyes briefly met his as his lips brushed across my forehead.

"You'se gonna be ok till I'se gets back?" He quietly asked. I could sense the worry he was trying to hide from me in his words.

"I'll be fine," was the reply I gave, the soft voice still unfamiliar to my ears.

"You'se shoah? Cause if not I'se can stay 'ere an someone else ca-"

"I'll be fine, Spot."

Spot was surprised that I had interrupted him, I could tell. His eyes had widened slightly and he was peering down at me in wonder. He nodded and then kissed my forehead one more time, breathing in deeply as he did so. It was as if he were taking in my scent for it to be imprinted into his memory. He moved back and hesitated when he twisted from under the top bunk to leave. He stayed hunched over and mumbled something to himself.

He bit at his cheek before saying, "I'se gonna get someone ta come an keep you'se company. Do ya mind?"

I was the one that hesitated now. He quickly took in the look of discomfort on my face and said, "It'll most likely be Skittery or Pie Eatah."

I nodded and went to reach for my sketchpad. Spot watched me as I flipped it open to the pages my pencil was stuck between, and then placed the pencil back into my right hand. He ran his fingers over the top of my head before calling across the room to Skittery. I merely glanced up to see what the newsie was doing and saw him sulking over to stand in front of Spot.

"Yeah?"

"Can you'se sit wid Maddie fah a while? I'se needs ta get 'er some food. She hasn't eaten since last night at da rally, I'se guessin."

Skittery didn't bother answering Spot. Instead, he walked around the bunk and sat on the bed to my right, his back against the bed post and his feet landing on the pillow on the other side. Spot gave an aggravated sigh, but, nonetheless, he looked at me one more time in worry before heading out the door with the six newsies waiting for him.

For the next ten minutes the teenager on the bunk beside me never spoke. He just sat still, his eyes roaming from my hands to my sketchpad, from my sketchpad to his shoes, from his shoes to the sleeping form of Patches and then back to my hands. I knew he was doing this, because I had stopped working and was instead watching him as he apprehensively brushed off nonexistent dirt from his shoulder.

Skittery finally gave up with not looking directly at me and rotated around so his feet were on the floor, his elbows on his thighs, his hands hanging between his knees, and his head turned up towards me. I think he was trying to gain the courage to look me in the eye. His brown eyes flittered up towards my face soon after that and my gaze met his.

I saw his semi-confidant look waver as he tried to hide the angry expression that flickered across his face. He swallowed hard and scratched at his chin.

"So..."

I do believe he was making this much more awkward then it actually was.

"Watcha drawin?"

"...Sara."

It never occurred to me that he might never have expected an answer from me since I had been, for the most part, silent for the better part of the day. The only words I'd spoken loud enough for more then Spot to hear had been this morning. Everything else was a jumbled mess as newsies came too close for comfort. So when I said my aunt's name, I was a little surprised at the slight wide-eyed look he gave me.

"Can I-can I'se see it?"

I put my pencil down on the bed and handed the book over to Skittery, careful so we wouldn't touch each other. I was still uncertain about contact with anyone other then Patches and Spot. Skittery focused down on my leather sketchpad, his fingers running over the drawings.

I shifted as my legs ached from being crossed in the same position since just before lunch time. I pushed Knots down into Patches arms and rotated my shoulders. My left hand throbbed, the two broken fingers burning and the covered cut across my palm straining as I tried to stretch my still functioning appendages. I winced without thinking and quickly made my face blank. I cautiously looked over at Skittery to see him ensnared with flipping through the pages of the book. He turned another page, looking through the sketchpad backwards, and came across one that was torn in half. One half was glued to the binding while the other was downstairs somewhere among the small pile of my things.

"Is who did dis," he pointed at the many ripped pages as he turned more of them. "Da one dat did dat ta ya face...an ya hand?"

I tried to take a breath and it hitched in my throat. He took that as a yes.

Skittery closed my sketchpad and handed it back over to me. I held it close to my chest when it was laid into my hand.

"I'se sahrry bout Misty bein missing, an bout ya aunt Sara, Madeline."

Tears flooded my eyes and I rapidly blinked to keep them at bay.

"Me too."

Skittery tilted his head, his face contorting into confusion. "Why ah you'se sahrry?"

"...Because if me and Misty had left New York when we still had the chance then maybe...maybe aunt Sara would still be alive and he wouldn't have my sister."

"Dis Robert guy," Skittery started at the mention of _him_. "He's ya step-faddah, ain't 'e?"

"Y-yeah."

"Den it's not ya fault. None of it's ya fault. It's all his. 'e's da one dat's supposed ta be takin care of ya, not hurtin ya. Place all a dis on him cause you'se did nothin wrong."

The tears finally started streaming down my face one by one. "But it's all my fault they're both gone. This never would have happened if we'd left years ago...Or if I had just put up with everything he threw at me and stayed in California."

Skittery leaned forward. "But if you'se had stayed out West den ya wouldn't 'ave met ya aunt fah da first time. Gotten ta know 'er, listened ta all 'er problems from 'er day at work, brushed away 'er tears from da frustration an sorrow of not 'avin 'er sistah round. Ya nevah would 'ave grown ta love 'er."

I was sobbing now, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were making my eyes red and puffy, and my nose runny. I never even noticed that the bunk room went silent.

"An Misty... Oh, Misty. She nevah would 'ave grown up in da environment dat she did. She'd nevah 'ave da love of an aunt or muddah evah again if you'se had stayed in California. She nevah would 'ave gone ta work at Tibby's, nevah would 'ave brought home all dose stories from da restaurant, which I'se know amused you'se an ya aunt ta no end."

He smiled at me softly when I gave a strangled chuckle.

"You'se nevah would 'ave known any of us newsies, us street rats, if you'se was still living wid dat monstah."

"Yeah, Maddie," I heard a tired voice from in front of me say. I looked away from Skittery to see Patches sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "If you'se had nevah come ta Manhattan, den I'se nevah would 'ave met Misty outside of Tibby's. And den she nevah would 'ave had all of us ovah fa suppah. An-and I'se really happy you'se is 'ere Maddie. I'se miss Misty!"

Patches threw himself across da bunk to land in my lap. His head burrowed into the crook of my neck and I could feel the tears wetting my skin. I glanced around the room to see the newsboys sitting silently, some looking away politely while others watched with soft smiles.

"I'se love you'se, Maddie," I heard Patches muffled voice drift up to my ears. I rested my cheek against his hair.

"See dat," Skittery stated. "It's a good thing you'se gots away when you'se did."

I wiped at my cheeks, trying to get rid of the tears that continued to drip down my face faster then I could dry them.

"Jeez, Spot's gonna kill me."

I eyed Skittery over the top of the hand running under my nose. From the top bunk on the other side of the tall boy, Bumlets hung himself upside down over the edge of the bed. His face gained a pink tinge as the blood rushed to his head.

"Why's dat?"

"He leaves fa ten, maybe fifteen minutes, an I made 'er cry."

I couldn't help but chuckle at the fearful look on Skittery's face.


	16. Is This Normal?

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 16!

**Eavis  
LivingByWill  
chaoticmom  
Nichole  
XxxEFreakxxX  
chaoticmom (again)  
elleestJenn**

(7/10/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Sixteen - Is this normal?**

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Spot hefted the medium sized sack further up his shoulder, groaning at its weight. He'd just come from Tibby's, and after explaining the situation to both the owner and the cook, he was ladened down with food for Madeline. Many different items had been tossed hurriedly into the sack, the chef worriedly asking questions as he pulled a few things from the shelves. He paused as Spot got to the part about Misty being missing.

_"You mean nobody knows where she is?"_

_Spot shifted his grip on the bag, holding it open wider. "Yeah. We'se think dat da man dat hurt Maddie 'as got 'er."_

_Freddy slowly started gathering more things to throw in the sack. "I'll keep on the lookout for her. Wish I knew what this man looked like, though."_

_Spot contemplated the cook's words. "I'se will try an get Maddie ta make a sketch of 'im. Maybe dat'll help."_

That was over five minutes ago, and now Spot was chewing on the inside of his cheek and thinking hard about what Madeline's step-father could look like. In all her murmured nonsense from earlier, when the game was still going on, she had said something about black and darkness. Maybe that was the color of this guy's hair? Or maybe she was muttering about what he did to her in the dark? He wasn't quite sure, he'd have to ask Maddie when he got back to the Lodging House.

Spot fumbled for the sack as it fell from his shoulder and almost hit the street.

"Damn. Why'd 'e hafta make it so heavy? Maddie's not gonna eat all a dis. She's probably not even dat hungry," he roughly pulled the rucksack back onto his shoulder. "Well, 'e did say dat when she was done ta give it ta da othah guys."

Spot paused in his ramblings at the crash of something dropping to the ground in the alley not too far ahead of him. He cautiously stalked forward, his body immediately moving to the wall and his back sliding against the brick as he came closer to the opening.

The sound of somebody panting reached his ears and Spot peered around the corner. Three dark silhouettes circled one that was struggling to stand back up from the ground in front of them. One of the standing figures kicked their foot out and the dark mass attempting to get to their feet dropped back down. Spot could hear the wheezing in their breathing. After a quick split decision, he walked into the open and made himself known to the four.

"'Ey! What's goin on 'ere?"

Before Spot could ask anything else, the standing three that went motionless at the sound of his voice, took off running down to the other end of the alleyway to the next street over. Spot dropped the sack and made to run after them, but stopped as someone's voice rose from before him.

"Spot."

The newsie knelt down and turned the body over, finally realizing it was one of his boys from Brooklyn.

"Blitz? What 'appened? What ah you'se doin in Manhattan?"

Blitz caught his breath and leaned on his elbows. Spot pushed him to sit up and held his hand against his back as the boy started coughing.

"Shreddah's gettin fiesty," he wiped at his mouth and spat onto the ground next to him. Spot noticed the dark coloring to it before concentrating on Blitz's words.

"What's 'e doin?"

"'im an 'is boys started comin into our territory. Dodgah got a hold of 'im an 'ad a nice liddle chat. Said somethin bout a goil an needin ta know where she was."

Spot silently cursed in his head. "Did 'e say anyhin else?"

"Yeah, you'se know anybody named Robert?"

Spot wasn't silent this time. "Shit!"

Blitz cringed as he took a deep breath. "I'se gonna take dat as a yes."

"Was dere anythin else mentioned bout dis guy?"

"Nothin othah den 'im an Shreddah ah lookin fa dis goil," Blitz squinted his eyes at Spot. "You'se knows 'er, don't ya?"

Spot helped the other boy up without saying a word. Madeline's step-father was really starting to piss him off.

Blitz studied Spot's face in the darkness. "She da one dat was wid ya's durin da rally"

Spot stiffly acknowledged his words. Blitz just nodded along with him, nothing else needing to be said.

The Brooklyn newsies stood silently for a minute before Spot's eyes dropped to the cobblestones. He quickly found the knapsack with Maddie's food in it and twisted it up around his hand before slinging it back over his shoulder.

"C'mon Blitz, you'se can stay in Manhattan fah a while. Don't think anybody's gonna say anythin 'bout it."

They started off towards the Lodging House, their feet making almost no noise as they walked along. Spot didn't say anything when Blitz flinched and clutched at his side. The teenager would no doubt pass it off as something minor. Spot would have to convince him to let Kloppman take a look at it in the morning.

"So," Blitz said into the calm air. "Drivah's got anothah obsession."

Spot looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "'S dat why you'se was running from Shreddah's boys an not 'im."

Blitz nodded and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Dis is what, four in da last week?" Spot asked after a pregnant pause.

"Yep."

"I'se will talk ta 'im. 'e needs ta learn ta keep it in his pants."

"I'se agree completely. I'se gots beat up cause 'e was too busy neckin wid some goil... Ain't dere a rule 'bout dat kinda thing?"

* * *

The two finally rounded on Duane street, where the Manhattan Lodging House was located, and Spot glanced at his newsie.

"Don't go's anywhere near Madeline. If ya do you'se will probably get somethin thrown at ya."

Blitz raised an eyebrow in reply.

"Don't ask."

"I wasn't gonna."

"You'se was thinkin bout it though."

"... Ok, so maybe I'se was... Why shouldn't I'se go anywheres near dis Madeline goil?"

Spot rolled his eyes at his curiosity. "Lemme jus say dat you'se will face da wrath of a room full a newsboys, me included, an you'se will 'ave a hysterical goil's tears left on ya cons-consures? Consense?"

"...Uh...what?"

"What's dat word dat plays up ya shame an it'll be stuck in ya head fa a while?"

Blitz gave Spot a funny look. "What da hell ah you'se talkin bout?"

"Nevah mind, I'se will jus ask Mads."

Spot mumbled something about nobody but intelligent people getting what he meant. Blitz heard and cuffed him on the shoulder.

"'Ey now, jus cause you'se ain't smaht enough ta undahstand me doesn't mean you'se can hit me."

"'Ey!"

Spot grinned before growing solemn as he recognized he'd have to tell Maddie about what he had learned only ten minutes ago. He twisted the handle to the building his Manhattan friends lived in and stepped over the threshold. It was quiet, for the most part, and the only thing he could hear were the quiet laughs and chatter coming from upstairs. Kloppman was behind the counter, and when Blitz closed the door, he looked up from the book in front of him.

"What's that you got there, Spot? And who's with you?"

Blitz followed Spot as he headed to the counter to talk to the old man.

"Dis is food fa Maddie. I'se don't think she's eaten anythin since da rally. An dis," Spot pointed over his shoulder to the boy shuffling behind him. "Is Blitz. Ya's met 'im befoah... At least I'se think you'se 'ave."

Kloppman nodded his head in remembrance and observed the way the taller boy was wincing whenever he moved. He narrowed his eyes and was about to ask him about it when Spot gave a small shake of his head. Blitz never saw it, as he was studying the empty room he was standing in.

The old man nodded his head back in understanding. "You might want to get upstairs and give that to Madeline. Especially if she hasn't eaten since the day before last. And Blitz, make sure you sign in in the morning."

Kloppman went back to his book after seeing Blitz lift a shoulder in response. Spot started up the staircase with the Brooklyn teen right behind him. He was halfway up when he quickly turned, Blitz almost losing his balance and clutching at the railing.

"'Ey, Kloppman!"

The older man lifted his head and patiently waited as Spot tried to find his words.

"You'se is smahrt, right?"

Kloppman's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I would sure hope so."

"Do you'se know what da word is fah right an wrong, an it gets stuck on ya mind."

Kloppman didn't know how to answer. "...I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Spot. Maybe you should ask one of the boys upstairs."

Spot quickly agreed and apprehensively took the stairs one at a time, the sack banging against his back with each step. Kloppman glanced at the curly haired teenager still standing on the stairs. The boy in question lifted his hands in uncertainty.

"'e said somethin ta me bout makin a goil cry."

Revelation finally came to the old man.

* * *

It took Spot about a half an hour from the time he left, till the time he got back to the Lodging House. I could hear his footsteps on the stairs and wondered about the second pair coming up behind his. Skittery, who was still seated on the bed beside me, froze with a terrified look on his face. He jumped to his feet, giving me a sincere glance, which a cringe soon followed right after, and hurried away from me to the other side of the room.

My eyes were still red and the tear tracks weren't dry just yet. I wiped at my face, but knew it was no use. Spot would immediately take in the puffiness of my eyes and search out Skittery. Most likely to hurt him. I tried anyways though, and finished just as he pushed the bunk room door open. A tall dark haired boy came in after him, his clothes mussed and dirty, his arms littered with fresh scrapes, and he was favoring his right side.

I had been pondering why it had taken the Brooklyn leader so long to get back. Now I knew.

"I'se back!" Spot yelled out.

A few of the boys called out greetings, most not even glancing up as they did so. The ones that did called out excited hello's to the other boy. Spot weaved between beds and newsies till he reached my side, barely even glancing at me before he tossed the rough knapsack off his shoulder and next to my stretched out legs. He cleared his throat and hesitated before he started what would become a fast, jumbled up mess of words.

"I'se talked ta Freddy an 'e's certainly got you'se taken care of. Said dat you'se needs ta eat as much as ya can foah you'se decides ta give da rest of dis away. 'e also said dat I'se needs ta make shoah dat dis actually 'appens. So guess what?" He continued to pull food items from the bag and laid them out on the twisted blanket at the end of the bed. He never even gave me a chance to answer before he was hurriedly talking once again. "I'se gets ta watch ya eat so you'se is completely full befoah handin everythin else off."

I furrowed my eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Specs, who had abandoned going to greet the new newsie in favor of bemusedly watching Spot as he rambled on. I don't think he could catch on to what the teenager was mumbling to me.

Spot grew frustrated with pulling everything out of the sack separately. Instead, he turned the bag over and dumped everything out. I flinched as something cold landed against my bare ankle. He then wadded the knapsack together and casually tossed it over his shoulder. It hit Snipeshooter on the back of the head and he turned to see who had thrown it at him. I looked at the curly haired teen, bewildered. He blinked back and turned fully around from playing marbles with Patches to gaze at Spot as he started picking things up, either shaking them next to his ear or sniffing them, and then letting them fall back to the mattress in disappointment.

Slowly more newsies paid more attention to Spot then to what they had previously been doing. Was I the only one who was slightly disturbed at the way Spot Conlon was acting, because this wasn't a normal occurrence for him.

"So I'se gots specific instructions from dat chef a ya's to practically force feed ya if you'se don't eat. Den, as I'se headin back ta da Lodgin House, I come 'cross my boy Blitz – Dat's 'im ovah dere. Say hi Blitz – getting beat up by a bunch a Shreddah's newsboys."

I peered over at Blitz as his dark green eyes focused on mine. He gave me a shy, awkward smile. I then jerked back and stared at Spot as his words started coming out too fast for anybody to understand anything he was saying.

"-disiswhenI'sefindsoutdatShreddah'slookinfayou'se."

Blitz and I were the only ones who could understand what he was saying. Nobody else was comprehending the information coming from Spot's mouth. He still hadn't even looked at me, considering Spot was still examining everything on the bed, and his hand brushed across my foot. I pulled my legs towards me and shifted my skirt so it would hide my feet. Shredder was searching for me and something else besides that was making Spot act funny.

"AndenBlitz – You'se just met 'im – tellsmedatyastep-faddah'slookinfahyatoo, an 'ey," he had finally paused his words, them still coming out too fast for anybody to realize what was said, and looked me in the eye. "Do you'se knows what da word is fa right an wrong and morals an it getting stuck on ya mind so you'se can't do nothin but thing 'bout it?"

There was complete silence until a choked snort came from the other side of the room. Laughter suddenly interrupted the short muteness. Blitz was nervously shifting on his feet silently. I stared at Spot, wide-eyed, and he stared back, his face gaining a concerned look as he bit at his lip. He took his hat off and started wringing it between his hands.

The first one to notice that we weren't laughing was Swifty. After taking in the look on my face, he smacked Jake's arm to get him to quiet. Slowly, everyone stopped laughing and watched apprehensively as Spot pushed aside some of the food to sit in front of me.

Pie Eater shouldered aside Bumlets to stand closer to the bunk Spot and I were seated on. "Spot, can you'se repeat what you'se jus' said."

He did, and the slow words sunk in.

I knew that my father would come looking for me. I mean, he did say he would be back before slamming the door to my bedroom and leaving the apartment. I had told Spot, so he shouldn't have been so surprised when he'd heard of this. I guess it was the thought of Robert _and _Shredder searching for me that startled him. It certainly did with me.

The image of a red haired, steel gazed newsie briefly crossed my mind and I clenched my eyes closed. I could hear the newsies quietly chattering back and forth, Spot answering all the questions they threw at him.

I was still stuck on the thought of Shredder and my father looking for me. Were they working together, or were they just momentarily helping each other out to find what they wanted? Their goal was me, obviously, but was it for the same reasons? And Misty? What if Shredder or Robert had their hands all over Misty right at this moment?

These questions haunted my and I winced as I clenched the fingers of my left hand. Someone pat my knee. I opened my eyes to find Spot watching me, his face upset. I gave a tiny smile and he relaxed some. This was until his face fell and he leaned closer to me. He stared me in the eyes and I immediately knew what was wrong. I peeked out of the corner of my eye to see Skittery gradually tiptoeing his way behind Spot's back towards the door.

Spot noticed my eye movement and twisted around. "Skittery!"

Skittery froze with one foot in the air, his shoulders hunched and his face scrunched with a grimace. "Y-yeah?"

"I'se gonna kill you'se!"

This was all I could make out before Spot jumped from his seat and threw himself out the door after Skittery, their footsteps stomping loudly behind them.

I never did answer Spot's question about having a conscience.


	17. Jack's Betrayal

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 17!

**MushSpotgoil  
XxxEFreakxxX  
LivingByWill  
Eavis  
chaoticmom  
chaoticmom (again)  
elleestJenn  
Nocturnal Rose  
chaoticmom (again)  
Sassafras**

(7/10/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Seventeen - Jack's Betrayal**

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"Nah, see, you'se gots ta 'ave a highah card den mine foah you'se can beat me'se."

"Oh, so you'se means dat ta beat ya jack, I'se gots ta 'ave a king or queen."

"Or an ace, but yeah, I'se think ya finally gots it."

I glanced down at Patches as he shifted onto his knees and started gathering his cards back up. I lifted my feet to the wall in front of me, slouching down in my chair slightly, and shaded in a few places to the picture I was sketching. Blitz sat next to me with his back to the wall my feet were currently perched on. Patches was facing him as they collected their cards and straightened them into neat stacks.

Blitz sucked in a gasp as he leaned forward to lay down a three of hearts. I winced along with him when I used my left hand to brush my hair out of my face. His forest green eyes peered up at me momentarily in mutual understanding before Patches' joyful squeak had them gazing back down.

"Ya did good, kid."

Patches grinned as he won the round of _War_ with a seven of spades. He took both cards and set them to the bottom of his already growing deck.

"Dis is fun, Blitz. Where'd you'se learn how ta play it?"

The small boy leaned his body against my chair as they each laid another card down onto the floor.

"Learned it from da leadah befoah Spot. When I'se was a kid nobody wanted anythin ta do wid me-"

Patches excitedly reached for another win. Blitz grinned and shook his head.

"So Whisk brings it upon 'imself ta take da time outta 'is day ta teach me a few things."

I waited for Blitz to lean forward and grab his win as he laid out another card before asking quietly, "Why did he get named Whisk?"

The curly haired boy smirked. "Don't think too much of da name. It's jus' a shortened version of 'is nickname."

I carefully made a sharp line on my sketchbook that would become the edge of a hollow cheek. "So, what's his full one and why was he given the name?"

"Whiskey, and dat's because 'e could drink anyone undah da table. Didn't mattah who 'e was drinkin wid, 'e always lasted longah den dem. It was also 'is favorite drink."

I slowly nodded and glanced out into the morning sunlight. I stared up at the windows across the street, not being able to see anything other then the ceilings I was just barely able to glimpse. I sighed and tilted my head to look down at my picture. My toes curled as the unfinished eyes of my step-father glared up at me. Several times I was up and walking around in the middle of the night because of the vision of his eyes in the night terrors that plagued my mind. A few of those times Spot was up with me, keeping watch as I paced back and forth along the bunks of sleeping newsboys.

"What do you'se mean 'e wouldn't tell you'se anythin?"

Speaking of Spot...

"All 'e said was dat Jack wouldn't come wid 'im. 'e wouldn't say anythin othah den dat. Jus grabbed 'is bruddah and went 'ome."

After darkening Robert's eyes, I looked over my shoulder to see Racetrack sitting on his unmade bed. Spot leaned against the bed post next to him, his arms crossed and his face set in a severe glare.

I quickly turned back around and studied my bare feet as they pushed against the wall. My chair slid back an inch, making my legs unbend slightly. Blitz scanned the room and nodded to somebody. Most likely to Spot as he glanced over to check on me. The two teens continued to loudly converse behind me, a few of the other boys putting in their two cents and adding small comments here and there.

Suddenly, I noticed movement in the windows of the apartment building across from the Lodging House. Since I'd been sitting in front of the window, the people moving about and doing their daily business didn't bother me. This time though, the movement came from my aunt's apartment. I froze, my pencil inches from the paper, and watched as someone walked back and forth near the window. I was only able to see the top half of their head. I held my breath and waited for them to come closer to the window. They finally did and I breathed in a sigh of relief. It was nobody I knew. I'd feared it had been Robert, but now that I actually thought about it, he probably would have come the night before.

Another head appeared for a few brief seconds before before disappearing. I then heard a woman screaming across the street. Blitz stood as quickly as he could and turned around. I slowly put one foot down to the floor, the other following right after. I hesitatingly stood and laid my open sketchpad onto my chair. Blitz put his head as close to the glass as he could without touching it and gazed up at the windows across from us. I moved in next to him and let my forehead touch the cool glass. There was another scream.

I felt someone step up behind me and immediately knew it was Spot. He leaned a hand against the window sill and leaned forward till his head came over my shoulder. I glanced at him to see his stormy eyes pointed at the street.

"What's goin on?"

Blitz shrugged and tapped at the clear glass. "Somethin's goin on in dat 'partment."

Spot gazed at the windows Blitz had indicated. He stiffened and his arm went around my waist.

"Spot," I quietly said. "They found aunt Sara, didn't they?"

He made no move to correct my assumption. I knew I was right when the doors to the apartment building opened. Our eyes drifted down to find two policemen carrying a board, and obviously a body on top of it, covered in a sheet. I whimpered as they lifted the plank high enough to push it onto a cart pulled by two horses, making sure that the red stained sheet was tucked in on all sides.

For several minutes the bulls stood around, some entering and exiting the building many times, before they all loaded themselves onto the cart. As soon as they were around the corner and out of sight, Blitz rubbed at his side and leaned his shoulder against the wall.

"Jeez."

He didn't need to say anything else. I was still frozen in front of the window, my eyes glue to the clear panes on the other side of the street. Spot's arms gently circled my waist and his chin rested on my shoulder.

"You'se ok, Maddie?"

"...I will be."

He made to step backwards, but instead ran into the chair I had previously been sitting on.

"What's dis?"

I continued to look out the window as he bent down to retrieve my sketchbook. I only turned around when Spot lifted the current page and gestured for me to look at it.

"Dis 'im?"

I momentarily faltered with my words. "...Yes, that's him."

Spot studied the picture carefully, taking his time to memorize every detail I had drawn. When he was done he ripped the page out without my consent. Not that he really needed it. I didn't want the sketch anywhere near me. He messily folded it up and shoved it into the pocket attached to his shirt.

"I'se gonna keep dis," Spot patted his chest where it rested and moved the chair away from the window. He glanced at Blitz before looking back over at me. "Get ya shoes on, we'se goin somewheres."

Patches, who had been piling all the cards together on the floor, jumped up into the conversation. "Where we goin, Spot?"

"Somewheres important ta da newsies."

* * *

Somewhere important to the newsies consisted of standing outside the World newspaper distributer and yelling at the people behind the gates.

"Stop da World!"

"Put da price back where it was!"

"No more papes!"

"Change it back!"

Blitz carefully crossed his arms over his chest and nervously shifted on his feet. I glanced up at him from my place on the ground, drawing my legs closer to my body. He leaned back against the wall and then timidly slid down so he was sitting in the same position I was.

"I'se 'ave gots a bad feelin' 'bout dis."

I fiddled with a loose thread on the end of my skirt and stayed silent. He peered over at me from the corner of his eye before fully turning his head towards me.

"Ya too silent. I'se feel like I'se is talkin ta myself most of da time."

I smiled softly and rested my chin on my knees. I continued to watch the striking newsies as they shouted obscenities at the newsboys entering the barely open wrought iron gates.

"Why don't you'se talk much?"

After finding Spot shaking his fist at the distribution center in the loud crowd, I turned to face Blitz. "Why speak when there's nothing to be said? If I have something to say about a certain subject or event, then I'll say it, but if I don't have anything to say, then it won't matter if I speak or not. Everyone close to me does most of the talking for me anyways."

"What 'bout ya thoughts? Don't you'se want peoples ta know whatcha thinkin?"

I pondered this for a moment. "No. Usually a person's words are a reflection of their thoughts. I wouldn't want to blurt something out that might seem perfectly fine to me, but hurtful to someone else. Like last night when Spot chased after Skittery for almost twenty minutes. I felt that it was unnecessary to take the time out of his night to try and hurt someone else just because they made me cry. I could have said something to Spot, told him to stop trying to hurt Skittery, but I knew he needed to make his authority over him clear. If I'd told him to stop, he would have probably felt slightly insulted that I'd inhibited him from pulling rank above Skittery," here I paused and gathered my words more carefully. "... I also went through something that I never want to go through ever again. So keeping my mouth shut is the best way to not go back. Or at least that's what I believe."

Blitz lifted his hat from his head and ruffled his hair. "Ya don't talk much cause ya 'fraid of hurtin somebody?"

Most of what I said probably went in one ear and out the other. He must not have known that I had only just recently started talking from six years of being mute. I didn't want to hurt his feelings by asking him if he'd actually heard what I just said, so I stayed calm and kept those thoughts from forming into words.

"Sure, Blitz," I softly said. "I just don't want to hurt anybody."

Before either Blitz or I could say anything else, the noise from the cluster of angry newsboys grew. Many of them were shifting back and forth, expecting a fight. Blitz pulled me to my feet in time to watch as a newspaper carriage came storming through the mob of boys. My breath caught in my throat as I watched Snipeshooter just barely get pulled aside from being smacked in the face by a man wielding a club.

The gates of the World were now open, and the crowd swarmed towards it. Blitz grabbed my good hand and tugged me between the newsboys to reach Spot's side as he dispersed a small fight that had broken out. Blitz let go of my hand and it was only seconds later that Spot laced his fingers with mine. He grinned at me and looked away towards where a wall of newsies were hesitating with their stacks of papes.

Someone bumped into me and I focused on Skittery as he waggled his eyebrows at me with a smile lit upon his face. I giggled at the look on his face.

"Hey-hey Race. Come 'ere."

I turned to pay more attention to the Brooklyn leader as he gestured Racetrack to his left side.

"What?"

"Tell me I'se just seein things. Just tell me I'se seein things."

My eyebrows furrowed as I peeked between two police officers to see the wall of newsies parting and a rotund man and someone familiar coming to the front of their small crowd.

"Nah, you'se ain't seein things, that's Jack. What's 'e doin?"

That was Jack? But this boy looked like he'd just bathed, and he was wearing a nicely tailored gray suit. It's not possible...Is it?

Spot let go of my hand to pull his gold tipped cane from his belt loop. "Well 'e's dressed like a scabbah."

Jack glared at everyone in front of him. I stayed close to Spot's side as Mush rushed forward, only to be stopped by the guards.

"Jack! Jack, look at me will ya. C'mon its me Mush. Look at me, what ah ya doin, Jack?"

The man standing next to Jack reached over to smooth out the teens new clothing. Jack continued to stare at us, annoyed. Kid Blink was the next to move everyone aside to reach for Jack.

"Dis ain't 'appening, dis can't be 'appening. What ah ya doin Jack? C'mon, what ah ya doin?"

Kid Blink was shoved back into the crowd and Boots was suddenly pushing between me and Skittery to run at the line of men standing in front of us.

"'ey, what is dis? Where'd you'se get dem clothes?"

The large man pat Jack's shoulder as he answered, "Mr. Pulitzer picked 'em out 'isself. Special gift, to a special _new _employee."

Cowboy lifted his head while, dare I say it, looking a little smug.

I heard many, "I'se don't believe it!"'s from behind me, and someone yelled, "'e sold us out!"

Racetrack moved away from Spot's other side. "Look at 'im in 'is liddle suit. Ya bum, I'll soak ya!"

"Eh, eh eh-" Spot started.

"Ya fake!" Racetrack got pushed away from the policemen and Spot quickly took his place.

"Lemme get my hands dirty," he jumped at Cowboy, the guards holding him back as he swung his cane out. "Come 'ere ya dirty rotten scabbah! I'll murdah ya!"

Spot was pulled away from the front of the throng, everyone becoming more rowdy as it happened, and I worriedly turned to see Blitz helping hold him back as he kept screaming, "I'll murdah ya!"

I took a step forward and found Skittery's hand gripping my shoulder firmly. I smiled up at him and gently pushed away his hand. David was standing in front of the half circle of police now, so I moved next to him. Jack's eyes shot from David's agitated form to mine.

I knew he wanted to ask what had happened to me by the look on his face. To ask about my wrapped up hand and bruised eye. He kept his mouth clamped shut and gazed down at me with slight concern. I got as close to him as I could without having to come into contact with the policemen holding their arms out in front of me. David shifted on his feet uneasily as he stared at Jack.

"I'm disappointed in you, Jack."

Cowboy's eyes widened considerably at the sound of my voice. I'd almost forgotten that he'd never heard me speak. It seemed almost a lifetime ago that I was sitting with him in Tibby's and laughing at the look on Racetrack's face as the flash of a picture being taken captured all of their expressions.

"I'm disappointed because you're turning your back on your friends. You made a promise to them, even though it was never said out loud, that you would take them all the way. To be their leader as they risked being put in the Refuge for weeks, months or even years. To watch over them and cheer with them as they won this battle against the World."

I could almost hear the gears turning in Jack's head as he listened to me speak. His eyes moved just to my left, and I saw Spot out of the corner of my eye as he arrived next to me.

"But you turned your back. You decided that the newsies, your best friends, were nothing. You think having nice clothes and money are worth more then the people you grew up with? You think that's going to last longer then many, many years worth of friendship? Let me tell you something, Jack Kelly," I could hear many of the newsboys chattering angrily behind me, some repeating my soft words to others behind them. I continued on. "Yes, those things are going to bring you some happiness, but it's not going to last long. Sometimes... It's the little things that bring you to the happiest point in your life. Just remember that, Jack. Remember that when your money dries up and your clothes start to get threadbare. Because those people," I pointed over the policemen's arms at the man the newsies called Weasel. "Those horrid people are going to turn their backs on you eventually. Just like you did to your boys. Think about it, Jack."

Mr. Wiesel had stiffened at my words and he straightened his stance to force his shoulders back and stand as tall and proud as he could. Jack did nothing but watch as I turned away from him and twisted around Spot so he was standing in front of me. David starting pacing, and Wiesel motioned him forward to talk to Jack. The police let him through while the rest of us watched them converse.

I stood close to Spot's back, my forehead almost touching his shoulder as I listened to David tell Jack that the newsies didn't need him.

"We don't need you! Cause all those words you said, those were mine."

I looked over Spot's tense shoulders to see Jack nonchalantly scratch at his nose.

"Ya, but you'se nevah had da guts ta put 'em 'cross yaself, did ya?"

David started moving backwards to where Jack's new enemies now stood. "Well I do now."

He turned as he got close enough and gazed at everybody. Any little thing Jack did was starting to provoke everyone around me. Skittery, Mush and Kid Blink were shaking their heads in disgust and Spot was shifting forwards and then backwards. If there hadn't been police guarding Jack, I think he would have punched him right then and there. He was just itching for a fight.

David suddenly turned around to glare at Jack. The teenager in turn lifted his shoulders and said, "What's a mattah? Got a problem?"

The blue eyed boy jumped at Cowboy and Wiesel caught him as he came near. The boys around me surged forward to try and break the police's wall. Two of the bulls came to help Weasel hold David back.

"You'd like a new suit of your own, huh?"

David looked at him as if he were the scum on the bottom of his shoes. "Never! Never! I'm not like you!"

David got pushed into Mush as the police formed a line on each side of Jack Kelly and shoved through the crowd and away from the distribution center.

Spot did say we were going somewhere important... I just wish is hadn't been Jack's betrayal that was on the top of the list.

Blitz came to my side and glanced down at me from watching Jack get escorted away. "I'se think I'se knows what ya mean when ya said dat ya thoughts can be hurtful. I shoah hope Kelly learned 'is lesson."

I glimpsed Jack look over his shoulder at the horde of newsies glaring after him. "Me too, Blitz. Me too."


	18. Youse is scared of a tiny liddle chicken

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 18!

**elleestJenn  
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(7/10/11)  
******The chapter has been edited... sorta. Please tell me if you see any kind of mistake whether it be grammar, spelling, or even a geographical one. I don't have a beta reading over the chapters so any problems you may see is all on me. I'd rather get it fixed quickly then let someone read a story with tons of mistakes.**

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**Chapter Eighteen - You'se is scared of a tiny liddle chicken**

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_I slammed into the floor, my hand throbbing as it landed uncomfortably beneath me. I tried to scramble to my feet, but my legs were wobbly as I strained to keep myself standing. I fell back down onto my knees. I struggled once more to get myself upright, the fingers of my good hand grasping at the worn down old sofa in the front room._

_The crunching of glass caught my attention and my breath hitched as I glanced over my shoulder to see a shirtless Robert standing at the hallway entrance. After having shed his shirt from the first round of abuse, I grimaced every time I glimpsed a look at his half naked body. If him not getting enough nourishment hadn't been apparent because of his gaunt face, then it would have been made obvious from the sight of his ribs sticking out of his chest. The moonlight shining through the curtain-less window did nothing to help with his manic look. His eyes were wide and angry, his mouth in a tight line, and his nostrils were flaring as he breathed heavily. I pushed my body to its limit and shakily stood to face him, my right hand still gripping the back of the sofa behind me._

_"What did I tell you about running away from me, Madeline?"_

_I couldn't move. My legs locked into place and my fear hindered me from taking even a step away from him. I licked at my dry lips, my tongue running over the reopened scab on my bottom lip. I almost smiled at his bleeding face, but kept it carefully hidden._

_After biting my step-fathers chin, he had lifted himself from atop my body and kicked at my ribs. I had taken the chance to hurry to my feet and rush through the open bedroom doorway. It was only seconds later that I was trying to get my legs to work to where I was standing right at this moment._

_Robert ran a hand over his chin, not even wincing at the pain. He glanced at his hand and growled at the sight of the blood staining his fingers. His eyes raised and locked onto mine. I jerked backwards as he jolted towards me. I had no time to escape as he threw his body into mine and we both tumbled over the couch and landed on its thin cushions. I desperately tried to pull myself back over the back of the couch, but to no avail, Robert grasped the back of my torn dress and yanked me away from the sofa. I held back a wail of pain as my hands stayed glued to the rough fabric when he pulled me away. The couch finally tipped over and I had to let go or go down with it. My step-father wasn't prepared and he released me to steady himself._

_I fell awkwardly onto what felt like aunt Sara's sewing supplies. I had no time to try and find her knitting needles or shears. Hands were on both sides of my waist and I was hauled into the air and tossed over a shoulder. I pounded on Robert's back with my only usable hand. He grunted as I dug my fingernails into his skin. His body started moving and I redoubled my efforts to be let go._

_Tears burst out of me as I scratched at his pale back. He ignored me, his feet once again crunching on my aunt's broken china. He pushed open my half closed bedroom door and paused for a second. I sobbed against his back, my feet frantically kicking out at anything they could. The quick second that he had frozen was over as soon as he dug his fingers into my waist and threw me off his shoulder. _

_The air got knocked out of me as I hit the floor hard, my already bruised head slamming against the floorboards. Stars erupted behind my eyelids for the second time that night. As I attempted to get my breath back, I wearily watched as Robert slowly closed the door._

_It felt as if he were closing me off from the rest of the world. With one last click as the door closed, I silently shut my eyes, hoping the door to the world would soon reopen. _

* * *

"Mads...Maddie...Madeline!"

I blinked my dry eyes and glanced over at Spot. He tightened his fingers around mine and gently pulled me forward.

"C'mon, lets get goin. Trolley's passed already."

I let out a slow breath and followed after him as he stepped into the street.

Ever since we left the Manhattan newsboys to do whatever they had to do, my mind had wandered into places I didn't want it to go. It left empty handed and came back dragging things I never wanted to remember ever again. In the last twenty minutes, both Spot or Blitz had numerously yelled my name or carefully shook my shoulder to knock me out of whatever recollection had been pulled forward. I said nothing after each time it happened and they never mentioned it as we continued on.

I let go of Spot's hand for a brief second to wipe at my now watering eyes. He stiffly peered over his shoulder at me and relaxed when he saw my red eyes. I blinked several times and quickly took hold of his hand once again, my fingers intertwining with his. He smiled down at me, and I gave a small one back.

A grunt to my left had me looking away from Spot. Blitz shrugged the bag he was holding farther up on his shoulder. He tried to sidestep a woman carrying a large basket and he gave her an annoyed glare as she moved in the same direction as he did. She, if I can really say this is what she did, politely glared back at him. I paused and pulled on Spot's hand as we got a few feet further from the Brooklynite.

Spot stopped, the hand not gripping mine resting atop his cane, and turned to see what the delay was. I gestured towards Blitz as he once again tried to get past the woman. She, once again, moved in the same direction he did. They both gave a frustrated sigh.

Blitz gave the woman a dirty look, her giving him one right back, and he stepped aside with a small bow and waved his hand for her to go past him. She shook her head at him and continued down the sidewalk after giving him a smirk. The curly haired boy muttered something under his breath and turned to where Spot and I were standing.

Spot raised an eyebrow at his newsie.

Blitz set his jaw and said, "Damn woman."

The teenager gripping my hand smirked and started to walk. After having turned quite a few street corners, we turned down one last one and reached where we had set out for.

The large bridge in front of me that connected Manhattan to Brooklyn had an eerie look to it. I had never stepped foot on the bridge before, and had never actually planned on being suspended over the East River in my entire life. I knew that it had been finished being built it in '83, but didn't know how sturdy it actually was. It was safe to say that I wasn't exactly excited to cross the bridge.

"I'se think I'se will try an find us a cart haulin stuff 'cross," Blitz mentioned as he studied the people coming and going from the bridge. "It would save us some time."

Spot immediately nodded. "Do it. Leave Maddie's bag 'ere, though. You'se don't need ta be carryin it wid you'se."

Blitz happily handed over the sack full of my things and took off to find a mode of transportation that was faster then walking. Spot lifted the bag a few feet off the ground and tugged on my hand. He pulled me away from the main flow of traffic and to the side of a building. He set the bag down against the wall before leaning against it. I huddled into his side as the flow of people grew larger.

"You'se evah been ta Brooklyn befoah, Mads?"

I glanced up to see him surveying my face. I shook my head and looked back out into the crowd.

"Ya gonna love it. People evahrywhere, though some a dem ain't all dat nice, but you'se just gotta stick wid me an you'se will be fine. Da Lodgin House is great, da boys won't bother ya none. An you'se will immediately take ta da docks, I'se just knows it."

He let go of my hand and threw his arm over my shoulder. I shifted more towards his body, my good hand grasping the back of his shirt. It tightened every time one of the strangers on the street wandered to close to where we were leaning against the brick building.

We stood there for almost ten minutes before Spot caught a glimpse of Blitz making his way towards us. I prayed that Blitz had found someone who could shuttle us across the Brooklyn Bridge, for I did not want to walk through the crowd. My unease lifted as soon as I saw the large grin gracing his features.

* * *

"I'se could seriously kill you'se."

Blitz had the decency to look chagrined as he stared at the bottom of the cart.

"Did you'se 'ave ta-agh!"

Spot swiftly moved away from the animal causing him discomfort. He gave a smoldering look at Blitz. "Did you'se 'ave ta get da cart wid all da chickens on it?"

Blitz sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. "It was da only one I'se could find dat would take us 'cross. Sahrry."

"Don't 'pologize ta me'se! 'pologize ta Mads! Ya da one whose makin 'er ride in dis-dis," Spot waved his hand at the many chickens surrounding us. "Mess!"

I rolled my eyes at them, neither of the two taking the time to notice the small white bird that was currently being pet in my lap. The chicken's eyes were closed as I gently massaged the back of its neck, my fingers running through the feathers softly. Spot chanced a glanced over at me and did a double take as he saw the bird. His eyes widened.

"Maddie!"

His shout frightened the chicken and it gave a squawk while trying to get out of my lap. Feathers flew and I closed my eyes against the wave that hit me. I opened one eye, and after finding it safe, opened the other one. I looked at Spot and furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"What did you do that for, Spot?"

"Dat chicken was in ya lap."

I scrunched my face in confusion. "Yes, it was."

"You'se don't knows what kind of diseases it 'as."

I sighed and picked the small white feathers from my skirt. I gathered them all up in my hand before throwing them at Spot. I heard a sound come from Spot, one that I never thought would ever come out of him, as he scrambled to get the feathers off him.

He squealed.

Both Blitz and myself looked at him in surprise as he flicked the last feather off his shirt. Spot froze, his face reddening, and he gazed up at us through his eyelashes. His gaze hardened as Blitz made a sound that was between a cough and a snort.

"You'se tell anybody's bout what jus' 'appened an ya ass will be out on da streets so fast you'se won't knows what hit ya."

Blitz choked up his laughter and Spot looked over at my silent expression. I'm assuming the same went for me.

It went quiet, none of us saying anything until Spot spoke up.

"Jugglah used ta tell me dat birds carried all kinds of diseases, which I'se knows dey do, and dat if I'se touched any of dem, dat I'se would instantly get it."

Blitz scratched at his head. "Ya mean Whiskey's right hand man made ya paranoid bout any bird you'se come inta contact wid?"

Spot nodded and Blitz shrugged a shoulder in acceptance. Seconds later I could hear him trying to hold back his laughter.

Spot grew irritated and finally said, "What?"

Blitz struggled for words before gasping out, "You'se is scared of a tiny liddle chicken."

This gained Blitz a new bruise as Spot leaned forward to slam his fist into other boys arm.

It was silent for almost the rest of the trip and it wasn't until we were close to being in Brooklyn that Spot once again spoke.

"Blitz is gonna take you'se ta da Lodgin' House. I'se gots business I'se needs ta take care of befoah I can get home."

And that was that.

* * *

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and fiddled with the sleeves that were pulled down over my fingers. My eyes stayed glued to the scuffed wooden floor and my teeth felt as if they were permanently attached to my bottom lip. Most of the boys around me ignored my presence while a few others constantly glanced up at me with slight curiosity. I could feel their eyes on me as I took in a shaky breath.

Blitz's loud voice could be heard from upstairs, his shyness having disappeared as soon as he was on home turf. Something clattered against the ceiling above my head and I immediately wondered what he was making the newsies on the level above me do. I finally looked up from the floor and studied my surroundings.

The room I was standing in was dusty and dirty. Tucked into the corners were random chairs of different sizes and couches almost completely falling apart. A book case stood off to my right. One of the shelves was missing and I noticed that the frame was slightly lopsided. There weren't any books on the shelf, just a slingshot, a few stray pieces of newspaper and what looked like a somebody's left shoe.

Teenage boys were scattered across the area, lounging on the broken couches or slouching over the round table in the center of the room. My eyes scanned the forms and they jumped from person to person. With every boy I looked at I noticed that they kept their attention on anything but me. I knew they knew my gaze had landed on them because some fidgeted and rubbed the back of their necks nervously as they went on with their daily business.

A group of them sat stiffly off to my left, their voices low and their backs hunched so they leaned towards each other as they conversed. Two of them had bruises lining either of their eyes and another had stitches on his right cheek. The one with the stitches glanced up as he felt my observing eyes land on him. His blue ones were blank as he studied me and he soon shrugged me off with a raised eyebrow as he rejoined the conversation in front of him.

None of these boys had been pleasant to me since I arrived. Considering that none of them had even tried to talk to me, and instead stayed huddled together, I figured that they never would. They were tough, mean, and looked much more dangerous then my step-father ever could be. It's a good thing I was in Brooklyn, cause if I had been in Manhattan, I would have asked every single newsie surrounding me why they looked as if someone were about to attack them at any moment. I don't think any of the Brooklyn newsies would have appreciated my questioning, so I stayed silent and waited for either Blitz or Spot to come and save me from being alone in the room full of boys. They all looked like they could commit murder and get away with it.

The door next to me was shoved open and slammed into the wall, making me let out a startled squeak. I felt the cool night air wash over me and stared, wide-eyed, as an angry young man stalked through the open doorway. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his clothes stuck this his body like a second skin. I heard squelching sounds as he walked and looked down to see water leaking from his boots and onto the floor, leaving footprints as he came forward. Water dripped down his face and off his chin and I could hear the droplets hitting the wooden floor beneath him as he froze just a few feet from me.

He glowered at everything in the room. Didn't matter what it was, it became a victim of his vicious glare. His stormy eyes roamed over me, the glare never dropping, and I immediately wished I had been present when Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn, got soaking wet when it wasn't even raining outside.


	19. The Burning of a Bed

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 19!

**chaoticmom  
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11/7/10  
**This chapter has been edited... sorta. Tell me if you find any mistakes!**

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**Chapter Nineteen - The Burning of a Bed**

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His stormy eyes stared down into the dark waters. Already he had glanced up several times to look in the direction of the Lodging House in the last five minutes. He could just barely see the corner of the building if he tilted far enough forward.

_"...Can't I go with you?"_

Spot breathed in deeply as the soft sound of her voice rang in his ears.

_"...Please?"_

Just minutes before arriving at the docks he had left her behind on the steps of the Lodging House. Her light green eyes pleading with him to take her with to wherever he was headed. Her hand tightly gripping onto his.

_"I'se sahrry Mads, but I'se gots business dat needs ta be taken care of dat ya shouldn't be 'round for."_

He quickly remembered her response as she leaned in closely to whisper into his ear, her warm breath gently blowing against his cheek.

_"I don't want to be left alone with all those boys... boys I don't know. Somethings gonna happen... please don't leave me."_

Spot roughly kicked at a wooden crate nearby, silently cursing as his foot came away bearing a sharp pain. After giving Maddie's cheek a caress, the Brooklyn newsie had nodded to the boy standing at the top of the stoop steps. Blitz had jumped down the few steps to take Maddie's hand and tug her lightly up towards the Lodging House door.

_"It'll be alright, Mads. They won't do nothing cause they'll 'ave ta answer ta me."_

Finally, she had let the older newsie pull her into the building. Now Spot was stuck waiting on the docks for a couple of his boys to arrive with news about the happenings in Brooklyn.

They arrived twenty minutes later. Spot slowly stood from his seat on the edge of the docks and crossed his arms. The three teenagers made their way towards him after spotting his figure from the road.

"Ey. Spot," the tallest of the three greeted as they reached his side.

"Millah, Stubbs, Drivah," Spot responded with a nod to each newsie.

Miller pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked the ashes to the ground. "'ow's Manhattan doin?"

Spot shifted and rubbed his chin with his shoulder, his arms still crossed. "Doin fine. Bet one of da boids told ya 'bout Jack."

Driver gave a jerk of his head nonchalantly. "Yeah, we'se hoid 'bout it."

"What 'appened?" Stubbs asked while taking a step forward.

Spot lifted a hand to rub at his face. "Jack turned 'is back on us, dat's what 'appened."

The other three glanced at each other. The Brooklyn leader noticed, but didn't comment. He knew some of his boys wanted nothing to do with either Jack or Manhattan, but they followed his decisions none the less. They trusted his judgment.

"Tell me 'bout what's goin on 'ere."

And they did.

* * *

"How long?"

There was a pregnant pause. "Evah since da rally."

"Where?"

"North, near da bridge, on da east side. We'se 'aven't seen dem anywhere else. Yet."

"Dey're getting brave, Spot. Getting closer an closer ta da Lodgin House."

"Yeah, Nickel an Beetle got jumped yestahday."

"How bad was it?"

"Lets jus' say dat Nick will be on bed rest fa a couple days. Beet's 'ad ta get stitches on 'is face."

Spot ran a hand over his face and turned to look at his newsies. "Damn. It's getting worse an it's jus' gonna keep getting worse."

"Till dey finally give a real attack an bring out a war," Miller said as he slouched against a post at the edge of the dock.

Stubbs flicked his cigarette into the water and blew the last of the smoke from his lungs. "We'se needs ta do somethin, Spot. We'se needs ta be prepared."

"'ave everyone in groups so dere's a less chance of getting soaked," Miller suggested. He rubbed at his nose with his forever ink stained fingers and peered through the oncoming darkness at his leader.

Spot watched the sunset for a brief moment before gesturing his boys to start following him. "We'se will do jus' dat. Make shoah nobody goes out alone. I'se don't want anybody getting hoit worse den it's already comin. An believe me, it's gonna get worse."

Driver dodged a man finishing up wheeling crates on the empty dock space nearby and asked, "Dey gonna start killin, ya think?"

Spot nodded. "Yeah. Bodies ah gonna start showin up unless we'se give in ta Shreddah's demands."

Stubbs snapped his fingers. "Well, why don't we'se? We'se can get a message ta Shreddah through one a 'is boys an 'e'll come an get 'er hisself I'se imagine. Den dere won't be any-"

Spot cut off the rest of his plan by slamming Stubbs up against a wall of crates. He cut off the boys air supply as his muscled arm went across his throat and he pushed. "We'se ain't givin 'er up. Do ya hear me?"

Stubbs strained to take a breath, his jaw clenched and a vein in his forehead popped out. Both Driver and Miller kept back and watched silently as Stubbs attempted to say something.

"Do you'se undahstand?"

The choking teenager made a movement that Spot took as a nod and he let him go. Stubbs dropped to his hands and knees and took in as many deep breaths as he could. Spot swung around and glared at the other two behind him.

"Either a you'se gots anything ta say?"

They both shook their heads and held their hands up in surrender. Spot turned back to the teen on his knees and knelt down so he was level with him.

"We'se ah not givin up Madeline ta those monstahs. You'se don't know what dey'd do ta someone like 'er. I'se do. She's not goin anywhere. She's mine."

At Spot's declaration, Stubbs stood up and, with one hand rubbing his reddening neck, he spit in the other and held it out. "I'se sahrry, Spot. Didn't know she meant dat much ta you'se."

The shorter boy contemplated the hand before spitting in his own and clasping his fingers around Stubbs'. "Don't do it again. Tell dem all not ta even suggest it, cause it ain't 'appenin. Now, lets get back ta da Lodgin House. I'se gots a goil waitin for me'se."

Silence drifted among the four as they continued walking down the dock with no trouble. That is, until Miller opened his mouth.

"Ey' Drivah, don't you'se wanna tell Spot da story of why dere's a large hole in da wall 'bove 'is bunk?"

* * *

_The door next to me was shoved open and slammed into the wall, making me let out a startled squeak. I felt the cool night air wash over me and stared, wide-eyed, as an angry young man stalked through the open doorway. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his clothes stuck to his body like a second skin. I heard squelching sounds as he walked and looked down to see water leaking from his boots and onto the floor, leaving footprints as he came forward. Water dripped down his face and off his chin and I could hear the droplets hitting the wooden floor beneath him as he froze just a few feet from me. _

_He glowered at everything in the room. Didn't matter what it was, it became a victim of his vicious glare. His stormy eyes roamed over me, the glare never dropping, and I immediately wished I had been present when Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn, got soaking wet when it wasn't even raining outside._

Everyone in the room immediately stopped what they were doing and froze. I couldn't even move from where I was standing as Spot stalked to the middle of the room. Three boys shuffled in behind him, one just as wet as Spot himself.

One of them closed the door and both he and I winced at the sound of it slamming shut. Spot pivoted on his feet to glare at the three huddling in front of the door. They cringed back at the ferocity of the look and I immediately felt bad for them. They couldn't have possibly done something so bad that they deserved such a glower.

Spot closed his eyes and pointed at the staircase. "Everybody ta bed. We'se got a big day tamorrow."

All at once, everyone around me stood and made their way towards the stairs, not even asking for an explanation as to why their leader was so angry. One of the boys near the door, the shortest of the three, took a step forwards, as if to follow the rest of the group. Spot instantly raised an arm and pointed at the boy.

"Not you'se. You'se can all stay 'ere fah now."

It was silent except for the footsteps carrying up the stairs and the mutters of boys as they whispered to their friends. I shifted uneasily as the last newsie took a glance back down at the five of us in the room before disappearing down the hall. Spot looked over at me and his glare softened. He lifted a hand out and I hurried over to stand beside him.

As I reached his side, I leaned close, not bothering to keep my clothes away from his own soaking ones, and whispered, "What happened to you? Why are you wet?"

Spot took a sharp breath and was once again glowering at the three boys across the room. "Somebody wanna tell 'er why I'se is wet?"

The three exchanged quick glances and, simultaneously, they all began to speak.

"See, dis is 'ow it 'appened-"

"Drivah 'ere did it-"

"It really wasn't my fault-"

"-an 'e pushed me'se-"

"-'e grabbed a hold of da closest thing-"

"-which was Spot-"

"-an dey both went ovah-"

"-cause of da hole in da wall-"

"Would da three a you'se shut up!"

The boys all stiffened and snapped their mouths closed. Spot put an arm around my shoulder and tilted his head to talk to me without taking his eyes off his newsies.

"Drivah dere," the shortest boy of the group waved at me nervously. "Decided it would be a good idea ta push Millah," here the boy with a scar through his right eyebrow, which I thought looked attractive on him, nodded his head towards me. He was the one as soaking wet as Spot was. "Inta da East Side Rivah. 'e decided ta grab a hold of me an pull me down wid 'im. Fah what, I'se don't knows. Dey still 'aven't told me'se."

The third boy, one Spot hadn't given me a name to, fidgeted. I took notice to a finger missing on his left hand.

"Stubbs," Spot firmly said. "Do you'se know anythin bout dis hole in da wall 'bove my bunk?"

"...I'se might," Stubbs paused and glanced from Spot's face to mine. "But I'se don't wanna say nothin wid 'er in da room. S'not appropriate."

Spot sighed and gently squeezed my shoulder. "Does dis 'ave anythin ta do wid Drivah's new goil?"

Stubbs apprehensively nodded.

"Do I'se even wants ta sleep in my bed?"

"You'se should probably burn it, Spot," Miller responded for the other boy as he starting wringing out his clothes.

The Brooklyn leader wiped the water off his face. "Great, jus' what I'se needed, a copulation takin place in my bed."

"A good one, Spot, it was a good one."

"Hence da hole in my wall. I'se gots it, Drivah."

Driver shrugged his shoulders. "Can we'se gets ta bed now? I'se beat."

"I'se completely wet. I'se think I'se beat you'se."

"Oh yeah, well my throats sore cause a getting choked. I'se gots ya both beat."

Spot grunted to gain their attention and jerked his head towards the staircase. The three bound across the floor past us and took two steps at a time to get to the top, still chattering on about who had who beat. Spot nudged me along till we reached the bottom step. That's when Blitz finally made his appearance. He stared down at us from the top step.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Spot mumbled something under his breath as we were one step away from him. The only thing either Blitz or I could make out was, "Need ta burn me a bed."

* * *

_Unwanted hands roaming, fingers gripping, teeth biting. All these things were happening all at once. Hands wandered where they shouldn't have. Long, thin fingers dug into my side painfully. Yellowed teeth bit into places that should remain unseen._

_There were the shapes of several people around me. All of them familiar... and yet not. Tears slid down my cheeks, my hands pushing against an unseen force. _

_"Help! Please!"_

_Nobody would help me. They all just gazed down at me with no emotion. I struggled as an invisible hand trailed up my leg, pushing my skirt up along its path._

_"Please! Help me!"_

_Still they stared. My blouse was being unbuttoned, my fingers digging at a familiar stranger cloaked in darkness._

_"Stop! Someone help me!"_

_I was screaming in a room full of people that wouldn't help me. It made me feel like the loneliest person in the world._

* * *

I jerked awake. My body flew upward and I sat up quickly. My breath was caught in my throat and I struggled to take oxygen into my lungs. A dull thump sounded from beside me and I almost fell off the bed to get away from the noise. A hand reached out and started making soothing circles between my shoulder blades. I instantly knew who it was.

Spot sat down on the mattress next to me and continued running his hands across my back until I eventually gasped. Air surged through my mouth and into my body. I was instantly on my feet and rushing to the doorway at the other side of the room.

The bunk room had no door on it, just hinges where a door should have been. It made it easier for me to pull myself past the door jam and into the hall. Without delay, I started pacing through the hall, trying to find the door that I wanted. My eyes started to water as I couldn't seem to find the right one. I started to panic.

Soft footsteps approached from behind and I turned to see Spot watching me from the doorway to the bunk room.

"What do you'se needs, Maddie? Tell me."

I sucked in a large breath. "I need the washroom. Please. I need the bathroom. I can feel him on me."

Spot's eyes darkened and he gently took my hand and led me down the hall to where the bathroom resided. He opened the door and walked to the middle of the room where a large round bucket, big enough for a person, sat. He started pumping water into the makeshift tub as I shifted impatiently from foot to foot.

* * *

Spot finished pumping the water and as soon as he heard the sound of clothing hitting the floor, he knew he should have left the room. Instead, he kept his head turned away until he reached the half-wall nearby. He sunk down to the floor as water splashed and the sound of Maddie's sobs filled the night air. He could hear her frantically scrubbing at her skin and Spot closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest.

It took an hour until Madeline's bathwater finally stopped crashing onto the floor. Her sobs were still there though. Spot rubbed at his eyes, wishing there was something he could do to help her.

"Spot."

Her soft voice filled the emptiness in the room. He turned his head towards the opening next to him and quietly whispered, "Yeah, Mads?"

"... Do you think there's something wrong with me? That it took so long to want to take a bath to get rid of him."

Spot hesitated with his answer, not knowing if it was the right one. "I'se think dat you'se was still in shock an it jus' barely hit ya. Dere's nothin wrong wid you'se."

"... I had a nightmare. One where his hands were all over me. There were people standing all around us. I kept screaming for help, but they wouldn't listen. They just... they just sat there."

Her sobs became so gut wrenching that Spot had to scoot over to the edge of the wall to peer around the corner and look at her.

He could only see the top half of her, and even then, he still couldn't see much due to her knees being drawn up to her chest. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her legs and her face was buried into her bony knees. Her body was facing away from Spot, and he could see the slight curve of her breast. He didn't even look but for half a second before his eyes were studying her skin. It was rubbed raw from the washcloth he had given her and her now darker then strawberry blond hair was soaked with her bathwater.

"Mads..."

Madeline lifted her tear stained face to blink her swollen eyes eyes at him.

"I'se won't jus' sit dere. Cause it's nevah gonna 'appen 'gain. I'se promise."


	20. Four Thirty Three in the Morning

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 20!

**Cassidy  
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11/7/10  
**This chapter has been edited.. sorta. Tell me if you find any mistakes!**

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**Chapter Twenty - Four thirty-three in the morning**

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I spent so long in the bath that the water grew colder then it was when I first got in it. My tears were still mingling with the chilly water, they had slowed considerably, and my teeth were beginning to chatter. It wasn't loud enough though, because Spot never mentioned me getting out of the tub. He had moved from sitting around the corner where I couldn't see him to on the other side of the half wall nearby. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed. They had been for a while. I figured he must have fallen asleep.

My eyes were starting to droop shut. My head would fall forward every so often only for me to jerk it back up whilst widening my eyes. I lifted a hand to brush a strand of drying hair from my face and froze. This was the moment that Spot opened his eyes.

"Aw, shit. Mads, I'se completely fergot 'bout ya 'and."

He quickly got to his feet, tripping over something in the dim lighting, before coming closer to where I was curled up.

"We'se needs ta get dat taken car- Jeez! Ya lips ah turnin blue! Why didn't you'se say anythin ta me'se? I'se will be righ' back. Don't go nowhere."

Spot rushed from the room and I continued to stare at my left hand. I had forgotten about my two broken fingers and the gash in the middle of my palm. Nothing seemed to hurt when I had woken up. There hadn't been any pain when I had been washing. As I gazed at the waterlogged cloth tied up around the wounds, the pain started to register. My fingers instantly began to sting. Spot hurried back into the room carrying an arm full of clothing and what looked like a ragged towel. He threw the clothes down onto the floor away from the tub and then spread the towel up in the air between his hands.

"'ere, stand up. Don't worry, I'se won't look."

The newsie turned his head and closed his eyes. It took me a minute to gain the courage to stand up from the tub. I lifted one foot and set it on the floor before letting the second one rise and do the same. With cautious movements, I took one corner of the towel he held up in the air and held it against my body. I then twisted and turned till it was wrapped tightly around me and I reached his other hand. I tugged the other corner from his fingers and tucked it into the folds to help it hold. His eyes were still clenched shut.

"It's ok, Spot," I murmured. "I'm covered."

He opened one eye first, as if to make sure I was telling the truth, and then opened the other. He didn't even glance down anywhere below my face before saying, "Good. Now I'se gots ya some clothes. I'se not makin any promises on dem fittin though." He moved away from me and gestured towards the pile of clothing lying on the floor. "Get dressed while I'se go an gets Doc so 'e can take a look at dat hand."

Spot left the room once again, closing the door behind him. I stood still for a moment, my right hand clutching the towel close and the left becoming heavier and heavier by the second. I stepped to the clothes and squatted down to see what he had brought me. Several different pairs of pants, shirts and suspenders were twisted together. I quickly chose a pair of worn down brown pants, both legs with holes in the knees, an old threadbare shirt which I assume must have been black but was now a dark gray color and pair of suspenders so faded they were almost pink. They looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't figure out where I might have seen them before. It was the last article of clothing I pulled from the pile.

It took me several minutes of struggling with sleeves, buttons and pant legs before I was fully dressed. Well, with the exception of my bare feet and the shirt hanging almost completely off one shoulder. Obviously a much larger boy then I had previously owned the shirt. The pants were rolled up quite a few times and yet they were still dragging on the floor. It seemed that again a much larger and taller boy before me had owned the pants. I left the suspenders hanging low since I knew that after Spot attempted to take care of my hand, he would try to get me to go back to sleep. There was at least two hours before any of the newsboys had to be up.

I rubbed at a wet spot on my shirt, one from where my bundled left hand had fumbled with the buttons, and opened the door to the hallway. It was empty. Tugging my pants up, I looked both ways and saw the low glow of candlelight coming from the direction of the staircase. My bare feet padded softly towards the stairs and I leaned over the railing to see if it was Spot who had lit the candle.

A man stood with his back to me next to the table that sat in the middle of the room. Several objects were laid out in front of him and I was only able to really recognize clean cloths from where I was standing. The gentleman nodded his head and reached out to run his fingers over the items. It was as if he were making a checklist of what was there. One of his feet started tapping and I could hear him humming an unknown tune. He mumbled a few words, all of them muffled, and continued to nod his head.

He seemed oddly cheerful for it to only be around three o'clock in the morning. I made my way carefully down the stairs, my eyes watching as the dark haired man started drumming his fingers along the edge of the table. I descended the stairs slowly, taking one step at a time, and glanced around the large room below me. Other then the softly singing man, no one else was in sight.

One of the boards halfway down groaned deeply beneath my feet as I stepped on it and I cringed. The stranger turned his head and I was surprised to see he wasn't that much older then me. He was at least twenty-three, maybe a year or two older. The man turned the rest of the way around at the sight of me and grinned. His vibrant blue eyes beamed up at me. The delight on his face from seeing me was illuminated by the lit candles in various places around the room.

"Hello there," he spoke, his voice pleasantly soothing to my ears. Not gravelly and rough, but a smooth melodic tone behind his words. He raised his hands to his hips and quickly ran his eyes from the top of my head to my bare feet. His gaze rested on my left hand, which I hid behind my back, before moving on. The long look wasn't uncomfortable. He wasn't showing any particular interest in me other then an observation of what my injuries might be. This had to be the person Spot went to go and get. Doc, I think is what he said his name was.

His inspection only lasted less then a second and he was motioning for me to come down to the ground floor. "Come on down. I was told I needed to take a look at one of your hands."

I deftly followed the hand rail to the bottom before hesitating. Did I want to be any closer to this man when no one else was around? Who's to say this wasn't even Doc. I glanced at the instruments on the table behind the man. They looked like something a doctor would have. Even the opened black leather medical bag on the edge of the table looked like it belonged to a physician. Flexing the fingers of both hands, the burning sensation had me making my mind up pretty quick.

After pulling my baggy pants farther up my hips, my feet carried me off the last step and towards the man. The pain made me wince and Doc frowned. He pulled a stool from under the table and gestured for me to take a seat. I sat and gingerly cradled my injured hand in my lap.

"I see someone has already attempted to take care of your hand. Can you tell me what's wrong and where it hurts?" He pulled another stool from under the table and sat down in front of me as he asked this. The hard lines of his face softened as he anticipated my response.

He wasn't going to get one. I stayed silent. His frown grew deeper and he lifted my hand from my lap. "Hm. I didn't know what I was going to be dealing with so I sent Spot next door to get the rest of my things. Maybe as soon as he's back he can tell me if there's anything of high importance that needs to be taken care of first. You don't need to talk if you don't want to, Madeline."

My eyes widened from hearing my name. Spot must have told it to him when he went to get him. Doc chewed on the inside of his cheek and studied the wet cloth tied around my fingers. He gently started untying it and began talking about anything he could think of.

"My uncle runs this place, the Lodging House, and I moved in next door with my wife about two years ago. He's getting too old to take care of it so me and Elizabeth, that's my wife, decided to come and help out. I figure he's going to be gone in a year or two. But you never know, Pete's too stubborn to just give up and die. He'll probably still be here in the next ten years."

The sound of Doc's voice comforted me as he peeled away the rags from my hand. The wet fabric went from white, to pink, to a dull brown as he got closer and closer to the gash on my palm. He carefully cut some of the cloth off as it started to stick together because of the blood. He continued talking.

"I was told last night that we had a new tenant in the building. Blitz came to tell me almost as soon as he got back from Manhattan."

I bit my lip, that would be why he had disappeared as soon as we stepped foot inside the door.

"He told me that a girl named Madeline might be needing my services at some point in time. Told me that dear old Kloppman had patched her up nicely but didn't really know if he did it right. Kloppman probably did a fine job but Blitz likes to worry. So when Spot knocked on my door about twenty minutes ago, I assumed it must have been for Madeline. It's a good thing I was already up or I'd be mighty tired right now."

I glanced up from his ministrations to regard him curiously. He paused to cut off another chunk off wet reddish cloth and peered at me through his eyelashes.

"I was up with my daughter, Rose. She's only four months old and she was up crying. It was my turn to take care of her tonight. I don't mind being up till the early hours of the morning, as long as I get to hold my daughter it makes the night much more enjoyable."

"'til ya 'ave ta change 'er diaper."

My head shot up and I saw Spot holding a small bag between his hands. He must have come in during Doc's chatter. I hadn't even heard the sound of the door opening and closing. Doc shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head to look at the fabric on my hand at a different angle.

"I don't mind too much, actually. It's only when she leaves a nasty one for me that I can't handle it. She usually gets handed off to Liz when that happens."

Spot set the bag down on the only empty space left on the table. He opened it up, flipped it over, and then dumped whatever was in the bag out on top of everything else. Metal clattered against metal and many of the things in the bag hit the table and fell to the floor.

Doc sighed. "Was that really necessary, Spot?"

Spot seemed unconcerned at the medical instruments rolling to a stop on the floor. "Not really, but it was definitely fastah den takin dem out one by one."

A sharp pain ran from my pinky finger and up my wrist. I jerked my hand away and mumbled a quiet, "Ouch."

Doc didn't look surprised that I had started talking, even if it was one word, and instead reached for my hand again. "Sorry, Madeline."

Spot threw the now empty bag over his shoulder and came to my side. He ran his fingers through my almost dry hair as Doc made one last cut. He gently pulled away the rags and I grimaced at the dark bruising surrounding my two swelled up fingers.

The dark haired man pulled away the splint Kloppman had made and set it down on the table next to us. Turning my hand over so the palm was face up, he made a soft tutting sound. The slash that went through the middle of my palm looked particularly nasty. The edges were a dark red and it was leaking a little bit of blood. It did look at if it were starting to scab, though it had most likely been pulled off because of the dried blood sticking to the fabric that it had been wrapped in.

"Jeez, Mads. I'se don't see 'ow you'se could've gone through ya bath an not notice dat," Spot declared and leaned closer to get a better look at the wounds.

Doc immediately pushed Spot's head away. "Get back, Spot. You're blocking the light."

Spot conceded to the command and straightened back up. "Kloppman said 'er two fingahs ah broken. Wasn't dat shoah if dey actually was though."

Doc lightly massaged the two fingers, pulling them and bending them slightly. A low whine escaped my throat and he paused. "Can you bend your fingers for me, Madeline."

He took his hands away from mine and I closed off another whine and tried to move my fingers. I was only able to curve my fingers before the pain was too much and I shook my head.

"They're not broken, but they are fractured. Kloppman was right to splint your fingers together. If he hadn't you probably would have been having some major problems with your hand right about now. How long has it been since the injury happened?"

Spot answered for me. "Couple days at least."

Doc nodded and moved to prod at the tender skin surrounding the gash. "This doesn't look infected either. Seems Kloppman did a good job at taking care of you."

"Dat's a relief." Spot ran a hand over his face.

"Yes, it is," Doc said. "If not, I would have had to amputate."

The newsie standing next to me contemplated the doctor questioningly. "Ampu-what? Dat doesn't sound good."

"Amputate. It means he would have had to cut my fingers off if it was bad enough," my low voice whispered.

Spot's body stiffened and he swore under his breath. He moved away from me as Doc starting making a new splint. Straining my ears, I could hear Spot cursing my step-father.

"Spot," I shifted to look at him over Doc's shoulder. "I'm fine. It's not that bad and it won't hurt forever."

His gray eyes studied my face and he let out a frustrated sigh. "Yeah, but ya shouldn't 'ave been 'urt in da first place. Misty Eyes, too."

At the mention of my sister I looked away from him and at the floor.

"She bettah be safe where evah she is. If dey've touched even one 'air on 'er 'ead dey're gonna get 'urt worse den dey've evah been befoah."

Doc's eyes flickered to where Spot walked around the table back to my side. He made no comment on the young man's short rant.

It was quiet for the next ten minutes. Spot had kneeled down next to me, his hand wrapped around my non injured one. Doc was finishing up cleaning the cut on my palm and he began winding a fresh set of medical dressing around it.

Spot tugged on the suspenders hanging from the pants I was wearing. "I'se see ya chose my old suspenders from dat pile I'se gave ya."

I glanced from the faded ones I was wearing to the newer, and yet worn looking, red ones Spot had over his shoulders. "I thought they looked familiar."

Spot grinned and knowingly said, "I'se knew you'se would choose dem ovah da othahs. Somethin 'bout dem bein familiar made ya pick 'em out. Ya mind musta known dey was mine."

"Actually," I murmured, my eyes glued to the faded red resting against brown. "These pants don't fit and they were the first pair of suspenders that I picked up. I figured I'd need a pair or else I'd constantly be pulling the pants up."

There was silence and then someone snorted and sounded like they were choking. I lifted my head to see Spot looking at me, bewildered, and Doc holding a fist against his mouth and coughing.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

Doc cleared his throat, his blue eyes sparkling in amusement. "No. You just knocked Spot's ego down a notch or two, that's all."

I switched my gaze from Doc to Spot. "Oh...sorry, Spot."

Spot rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. "S'ok, I'se didn't need it anyways."

Doc was about to make another comment when the door to the Lodging House flew open and slammed against the wall.

"Spot!"

A boy of about thirteen stumbled through the doorway, one of his hands fisted around a piece of paper. Spot shot to his feet as the boy rushed towards him.

"You'se needs ta see dis." The kid shoved the paper at Spot.

I watched as the Brooklyn leader flattened out the crumpled paper and it was then that I realized it looked like a newspaper. Spot's eyes flickered over the words his lips turning up the farther along he read. Doc finished knotting the wrapping around my hand and began picking all his things up and setting them into his bag. The boy who'd stormed through the door was breathing heavily as his eyes went from the newspaper to Spot, to me, to Doc and then back to Spot.

Spot read the last few lines of the paper and his smile turned into a full blown grin. He tossed the newspaper onto the table and started towards the stairs. "Good job, Hawk. Now come help me get everyone up."

I curiously watched as they both took two steps at a time to reach the second floor. I looked at Doc to see if he knew what was going on but all he did was shrug and continue gathering his things up. I could hear shouts coming from above my head and numerous thuds banged against the ceiling. I curiously stood from the stool and lightly touched the newspaper Spot had tossed away.

_AUGUST 2, 1899_

_THE NEWSIES BANNER_

_HOW WE CAN STOP THE CITY_

_HOUSE OF REFUGE, HOUSE OF SHAME! SCANDAL HIDDEN FROM TEDDY ON VISIT!_

_The shocking disgrace of our juvenile prisons is-_

That was all I was able to read before several newsboys were plundering down the stairs. Many of them were struggling to pull shirts over their heads or shove their feet into shoes. Stubbs crashed into the wall at the top of the stairs in his hurry to get to them. Miller was right behind him and he grabbed the other boy's arm before he tumbled down under everyone's feet. The front door to the Lodging House was still open and every single newsie that flew down the stairs hurried through the doorway and into the dark morning air.

"Speed it up, boys. We'se gots ta get ta Manhattan befoah midday," I heard Spot's loud voice before I saw him. He reached the top of the stairs and rushed down them. His hat was shoved over his eyes, his gold tipped cane tilted through his belt loop, a wooden sling-shot hung out of his pocket, and my shoes were held in his hands. "'ere Mads. 'urry an put dese on. We'se needs ta get ta Manhattan as fast as we'se can."

A wide awake and excited Blitz showed up beside Spot, still buttoning up his shirt. "I'se think Jack finally decided ta take ya words ta 'eart."

So, at approximately four thirty-three in the morning, me and two dozen newsies made our way across the Brooklyn Bridge to meet with the Manhattan newsboys and one Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly.


	21. Something Goods Gonna Happen Today

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 21!

**British Invasion 2009  
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11/7/10  
**This chapter has been edited... sorta. Tell me if you find any mistakes!**

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**Chapter Twenty-One - Something goods gonna happen today**

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"'ow fast did ya 'ave ta run ta get 'ere, Hawk?"

"Fast as I'se could. I'se think dat Jack musta given us one of da first papes dey made cause Itey an Snitch said dere was tons more."

"'ow much more do you'se figure dere was?"

"Can't tell ya's fa shoah."

"'ey, would ya look at dat."

We were nearing the side of the bridge that entered into Manhattan. It took us most of the morning to reach it and I was exhausted. I now see why Spot had Blitz get us a ride to the Brooklyn side of the bridge the day before. Everyone else was doing fine; I felt like I was going to pass out from the pain emitting from my feet. About halfway across Spot stopped and made me get on his back. He had absolutely no problem with hauling me the rest of the way to Manhattan. And I've got to say, the break for my feet felt quite nice.

"Look! Dere's more of dem."

Driver's second holler had me stretching my neck to see what he was talking about. Several people along the edges of the bridge were holding the reason we were here for. The newspaper Jack had created had been distributed along this side of the bridge and the closer we got to Manhattan, the more people we saw holding it. I watched as a young girl read aloud to a group of other kids as we passed by them. An older gentleman was nodding along to what he was reading. Several adults were conversing back and forth as they argued about what was written.

I bumped my forehead against the side of Spot's head and he turned to smile at me.

"I have a feeling something good is going to happen today," I whispered into his ear.

He gently squeezed the undersides of my knees. "I'se was thinkin da exact same thing, Mads."

* * *

The closer we got to the World newspaper distribution office, the more nervous I got. Instead of just the Brooklyn newsies following behind us, we had twice as many people who decided to tag along. If we had picked up this many people is just a matter of minutes, how many of them were going to be standing right outside Pulitzer's front door?

"We'se ain't late, ah we'se?" I heard Blitz ask.

We turned one last corner and I could hear the roar of a very large crowd as we came into view of the Horace Greeley statue. Spot lowered me to my feet and then took my hand, the other reaching for his cane and pulling it from his belt loop. I could see the Manhattan newsies cheering as they jumped up and down, waving at us. Racetrack was the first one I focused on and he was yelling, his arms swinging back and forth with his hat clenched in a fist.

It seems we weren't late at all and that we showed up at just the right time.

"Brooklyn!" Echoed around me and I almost felt the need to put my hands over my ears to block out the signal of our arrival.

Seconds later our group was enveloped into the large crowd gathering in front of the World Distributor. Several newsboys came to tease Spot about taking his time with getting there. Spot just grinned in amusement and gripped my hand tighter as we were surrounded by more and more people. We made our way through the horde of the working class citizens of New York, trying to reach where our friends were standing.

Eventually we arrived to where Jack had his arm around Sarah and was grinning widely at us as we approached. Sarah's grin quickly vanished at the sight of me. She took a step towards us with a frown on her face, spared Spot a fleeting glance, and then threw her arms around me. David gave us a concerned look when I glimpsed his face over her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Madeline," she said softly. "I should have gone home with you to make sure you were okay instead of going straight-"

"It's ok, Sarah," I quietly interrupted her. She leaned back, her arms still wrapped around my shoulders and gave me a sad smile. I was surprised she even heard me with my low tone of voice and the loud one of the crowd around us. "It's not your fault."

"But I should hav-"

"Don't blame yourself, Sarah. Don't even think for one second that this wouldn't have happened if you had come home with me. It just would have been made worse."

A small body took this moment to shove it's way between the two of us and we both looked down to see Patches gazing up at me.

"Maddie!"

Sarah released me and Patches immediately reached up. I picked him up and his legs wrapped around my waist and his arms tightened around my neck. I hugged him just as tightly as he did with me and he nuzzled his forehead into my neck.

"I'se missed you'se," I heard his muffled voice sound. Spot nudged my arm before pulling me through the array of workers.

"I was only gone for about a day," I mumbled to the small boy.

His fingers clenched the back of my shirt and his knees dug into my sides. Something was wrong. He was gripping me too tightly, as if he never wanted to let me go. I moved to set him down on his feet but he kept his steady hold and clung to me. A feeling of dread hit the bottom of my stomach and I rubbed at Patches' back as I continued to follow Spot through the people.

"Patches," I asked him quietly. "What's wrong?"

I saw the back of his head shake out of the corner of my eye. Something was definitely wrong. Before I could ask him the question again Spot came to a halt next to where Jack was standing with Les perched on his shoulders. Racetrack looked over his shoulder at me and grinned before motioning at the five police officers coming out of the World's front door. I could barely hear the gambler's words over the synchronous yell of, "Strike!" that was coming from around us.

"Dear me, what 'ave we'se 'ere?"

If it was at all possible, Jack's grin grew wider as he knelt to let Les down. After grabbing a hold of David's arm, he starting wading through the crowd to reach where a silver haired man was searching the faces of the yelling teenagers in front of him. Spot let go of my arm and his jeering grew louder when they entered the building.

I felt Patches lift his head from my shoulder for a brief second before he was digging his face further into my neck. My eyebrows furrowed and I gently tried to pry his arms from around my neck.

"Patches, you need to tell me what's wrong."

He stayed silent, and I felt his lips tremble against my skin. He wasn't crying just yet, but I had a feeling that he would be soon enough. I peered at the people around me and found that it was no one I knew. A cluster of little girls were to my left, their mother shaking her fist in the air as she shouted. A boy held a sign off to my right that said, 'Stable Boys on Strike' in messy writing.

"Oh no," I murmured. I searched through the tired looking people closing in. How did I get so far from Spot? He was beside me just a second ago. Where was he?

I pushed between the several groups that had congregated in the square. Desperately I stood on my tip-toes to find someone familiar, anyone at all. Even the ones I didn't really know, like Miller, Stubbs and Driver, would be a welcome sight. Minutes went by and I could feel the side of my neck becoming wet. The dam had finally broken. I felt helpless as my own eyes started to fill with tears. Something was horribly wrong with Patches and we were stranded all alone with no one to help.

Everyone around us was still cheering wildly, none of them taking the time to notice my frightened face or to hear the sobs wracking through Patches' body. I looked up and away from the crowd and saw that I was facing a brick building that was almost twenty feet away. I wiped my runny nose on the shoulder opposite of Patches and then thrust myself in the thick of the fray.

I squeezed through the edge of the large crowd and bashed my shoulder into the brick wall. I winced as the elbow of my left arm jabbed against the wall, jarring my hand and making pain lace through my fingers. I gasped at the feeling and held tight to Patches. His sobs lessened at the sound and he lifted his head to look me in the eye.

"Tell me what's wrong, Patches. I know something happened. Tell me."

"I-I'se saw M-Misty."

My heart stopped.

"What," I whispered.

"I'se s-saw 'er an I'se co-couldn't do noth-nothin ta 'elp 'er." His sobs grew heavy and it was almost too difficult to make out his words.

"Where, Patches. Tell me where you saw her."

He lifted a hand and pointed somewhere behind me. I quickly spun around and saw that his finger was pointed towards an alleyway across the street.

"I'se sahrry, M-Maddie! I'se couldn't do n-nothin."

I focused back on Patches and wiped at his tears. His eyes scrunched closed and his face was red from his crying. "No, Patches. You did nothing wrong. Now tell me, when did you see her? When was it?"

He coughed to clear his throat and ran the back of his hand under his nose. He calmed slightly so he wasn't stuttering his words when he answered, "It was jus' 'fore you'se 'rrived."

My eyes widened and I pulled Patches head back down onto my shoulder. I plunged back into the shouting crowd and sidestepped the rowdy ones as I tried to get the street. I was halfway across the road when there was a lull in the crowd and a pathway appeared before me.

I was instantly frozen at the sight of the frail frame of a girl that stepped out of the shadow of the alley. Her body was pale, her face blanketed with bruises and her bare feet torn up and bleeding. I couldn't breathe, couldn't even move. The congregation in the square quieted down slightly.

I took this brief amount of time to scream out, "MISTY!"

My cries went unheard as the yell of, "We'se beat 'em!" made the crowd go wild.

"MISTY!"

My sister's eyes drifted from looking at the ground to searching through the faces turned towards the World gates. Her pale green gaze met mine and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She starting shaking her head furiously as I began to make my way towards her. She took a step out of the alleyway and her step was instantly halted as a fist clamped around her arm. Her body began to shake and she fearfully blinked at me as the unknown man pulled her away from the alley entrance.

I could feel Patches' fingernails through the fabric of my shirt as they punctured the top layer of my skin.

"Don't do it. Don't go," he started to whisper. He then began repeating his words. "Please, don't go. Don't do it. Don't."

When I was four feet away from where I had seen my sister, a hand wrapped around my arm and gripped it tightly. I was almost too afraid to look up to see who it was that was about to bruise my skin. I finally peered up and then unhesitatingly attempted to get the young man to release me. Patches' sobs turned into wails as the steel gazed, red haired teenager I knew as Shredder dragged me towards the alley.

Today wasn't turning out to be as good of a day as I thought it would.


	22. Bettah yet, jus' find Spot

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 22!

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**This chapter has been edited... sorta. Tell me if you find any mistakes**

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**Chapter Twenty-Two - Bettah yet, jus' find Spot**

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The reason Patches hadn't been able to help my sister became obvious as I shielded my body over his when we were thrown to the ground. At least three young men, not including Shredder who was doing the throwing, were sticking to the shadows far away from the alley opening. They would have caught him in just seconds.

A well aimed kick, one I wasn't able to block, landed on the small boy's face and his wails instantly ceased and he went limp. I whimpered at the sight of blood rushing from his nose down his chin and soaking into his shirt. I cradled his body to mine and ducked my head low as a foot grounded itself against the center of my back. I wasn't able to look around at my surroundings. I hadn't even been able to get a good look at the alley before I was shoved down. The foot on my back pushed and I felt the heel of their boot dig into my spine. I could hear a girl screaming at the person attacking me. It was my sister.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's not nice to beat up on girls or kids smaller then you!"

A yelp of pain came from her direction and I glanced above my arms to see her cowering from a light haired boy who had his fist raised. After a few moments he lowered his hand and took a step back. Misty gained her confidence back in a heartbeat.

"You can't even hit me! What a coward!"

It took only mere seconds for her to be flat on the cobblestone with her hands covering her face.

"Now who's da coward?"

"Doon!" The man above me put more weight onto my back and I hunched lower over Patches. "Knock it off."

Soft moaning came from Misty's direction and I lifted my head once again to look at her. The foot on my back disappeared and someone was suddenly pulling my body off the ground. My hands immediately circled around Patches' torso and we were both suspended above the street. A deep groan came from above and I clenched my eyes shut and put a hand on the back of the eight-year-olds head to prepare for what I knew was coming. As soon as my arm went around his neck, we were dropped back down to the alley floor, the back of my injured hand stinging from the impact.

"Judge, Binder, separate 'em."

I secured my hold on Patches as the two boys each grasped an arm and hauled me to my feet. I held in a gasp as he was easily torn away from me. I reached for him but was pushed backwards and my breath caught in my throat when I once again slammed into the ground.

A tall, thin, dark skinned boy was holding Patches up by the back of his shirt and he readjusted his grip so his hands were clamped down around the small boy's upper arms. The newsies hazel eyes regarded me coolly as he watched me attempt to get to my feet. Pressure was put on the juncture between my neck and shoulder and I peered up to see a husky looking teen glaring at me as his foot shoved my upper body into the street.

"Get her up."

The mean looking youth's hands shot out and I was standing. The red haired young man lazily walked around from behind where I was restrained, the skinny light haired boy known as Doon dragging my sister after him. Shredder's hands were casually set in his pockets and his shirt was unbuttoned halfway due to the heat. He looked as if he were taking a stroll in the park. Behind him I could see the entrance to the alley and could hear the roar of the crowd as they celebrated what I assume must have been a victory. I watched him look towards the opening before turning back towards me.

I drew in a sharp breath as my eyes left Shredder and landed on my sister. Doon had a hold of one of her arms, the rest of her body was hanging limp at his feet. Her head rolled to the side and, between her matted locks of blond hair, I saw her eyes glint up at me with a wink. She'd be fine. She was tough like that. I spared her one last glance before blankly blinking up at the steel gazed newsie that came to a stop before me.

"How are you, Madeline?" He paused his words for a brief moment and quirked an eyebrow. "I can call you Madeline, can't I? A dear friend of mine told me that that's what your name is. You know Robert Filly, don't you?"

My open expression told him everything he needed to know.

He smirked and continued, "Oh yes, I know daddy dearest very well."

"He's not our father!" Misty was suddenly up and struggling to pull her arm away from Doon. "How many times do I have to tell the both of you that?"

Shredder went on as if she hadn't said anything. "So well, in fact, that he wanted me to pass along a message to you. Whe-"

"HELP!"

Shredder jerked around to glare at my sister. Doon squared his jaw and yanked my sisters head back by her hair.

"Control her!"

"Sahrry, boss," Doon sneered and slammed his hand over Misty's mouth.

She needed to scream again. Goodness knows I didn't have the courage to do it. I didn't want to put my little sister in any more danger, but it was the only way for us to get noticed. I stared at Misty, mindful of Shredder as he reprimanded Doon. Her eyes met mine and an unspoken agreement took place. If she could get one good scream in then somebody, anybody closest to where we were located, could run and get help. Run and get Blitz, Racetrack...Spot.

Misty screamed and the sound was muffled as the palm over her lips pressed more firmly into her cheeks. My gaze went from where Shredder was glowering at her to where the dark skinned boy was gripping Patches.

His tiny frame was being held up by the older newsies hands. His head lolled forward and blood ran down the front of his faded tan shirt. For as hard as he had been hit, I was severely hoping that all he had was a broken nose and not a concussion. People sometimes never woke up from those.

"Ow!"

I tore my eyes from Patches to witness Doon take his hand away from Misty's face and bring it up to his mouth to suck on the injured fingers. She had bitten him, and he really shouldn't have removed his hand from covering her lips.

Misty's mouth opened wide, her eyes squinted shut, and she immediately started screaming.

"HELP!"

The boy holding my arms to my side tightened his grip and his fingernails cut into my skin. The hazel eyed boy across from us dropped Patches to cover his ears. Doon flinched backwards and pulled on my sisters hair. She didn't stop.

"ANYBODY! HELP!"

Shredder wiped at his face in frustration. "Would somebody shut that little bitch up."

After a few seconds none of his newsies moved to comply with his order. I could almost feel the malicious intent rolling off his shoulders as his burly form took a step towards my sister.

"HEL-"

One hard smack across her face and her body instantly went lax.

"Misty!" Her name left my throat before I could hinder it from coming out.

Shredder turned and his lip curled upwards. "So she does talk."

I sucked on my bottom lip and worriedly shifted my feet.

"Shreddah, do you'se think anybody 'eard dat?" the boy behind me gruffly asked.

The youth's steel eyes left me to peer down the alley. "Not sure, Binder. But let's get this over with just in case."

Doon tossed away my sisters body and I cringed as she hit the nearby wall head first. Hard. The dark skinned boy pulled a blade from his pocket and he flicked it open. My arms were yanked farther backwards and Shredder grinned menacingly at the sight of the tears beginning to drift down my cheeks.

I really hope someone heard Misty's screams.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the newsies in the alley, a thin scraggly looking eleven-year-old had seen everything. His dark blue eyes widened with each passing second and his feet itched to run and get help. The second he saw the crimson flow after Misty hit the alley wall, he took off running.

Pushing and shoving through the flood of cheering people, he searched for anyone that would be of any help to him. The boy's head turned this way and that as the image of Maddie's frightened eyes appeared in his mind. He wasn't able to throw the picture out and he had an immense amount of trouble focusing on the faces around him. Somebody clapped him on the shoulder and the preteen jolted away from the motion.

"Whoa, Whoa, Manhattan, seddle down."

Stubbs from Brooklyn stood in front of him with a concerned smile and his hands raised with caution.

"Twiggy... ah you'se a'right? Ya don't look so good."

Twiggy shook his head furiously. He pulled Stubbs down to his level and his words slewed out quickly into the older boy's ear. "Maddie needs help! Shredder's got her and Misty!"

Stubbs froze and Twiggy saw numerous emotions flicker across his eyes before his face grew hard and he straightened. He looked away from the too-thin boy to inspect the crowd. "Where dey at?"

Twiggy jabbed his finger in the right direction and the older newsie pushed the younger one away from him.

"Go an find more of da boys from Brooklyn. Bettah yet, jus' find Spot."

Stubbs left the boy to his new task and slipped through an opening in the fray. He stalked passed newsies from other boroughs, stable boys, girls who worked at the factories, and women with several children hugging their skirts before the crowd starting thinning. He pushed between two Harlem newsboys and saw the alley Twiggy had pointed out just a yard away. He hurried forward and then slid his back against the wall nearest to him as he got closer.

He reached the edge of the building and slowly peered around the corner. Right away he saw various things taking place in the alley. An unknown girl was slumped against the wall, blood seeping from a wound masked by her hair. Her body was twisted so her face was pointed in his direction while her hips and legs facing the other way. He shuddered slightly at the sight of bruises marking both sides of her jaw and her closed eyes. This was Madeline's little sister, Misty.

A few feet away from her lay the youngest of the Manhattan newsboys. He remembered Jack mentioning him at some point or another, and thought back to his name. Patches. The small boy's nose looked broken and both of his eyes were turning black because of it. Stubbs inched forward when he noticed a few of the kids' fingers twitching on the only hand visible to him.

Stubbs' dark eyes lifted from Patches to where four boys were gathered around a whimpering figure. Madeline was struggling to get free from a hefty black haired teen that he recognized as Binder. The dark complexion of the boy next to him caught his attention as he tossed a knife to one of the others. The tall skinny boy before them caught it and nodded his thanks. Stubbs remembered both of their names as Judge and Doon. The copper hair color of the man in front of the girl made his face drain of all blood.

Shredder. Stubbs took a step back and immediately his thoughts went back to the night before.

_"Yeah. Bodies ah gonna start showin up unless we'se give in ta Shreddah's demands."_

_Stubbs snapped his fingers. "Well, why don't we'se? We'se can get a message ta Shreddah through one a 'is boys and 'e'll come an get 'er hisself I'se imagine. Den dere won't be any-"_

_Spot cut off the rest of his plan by slamming Stubbs up against a wall of crates. He cut off the boys air supply as his muscled arm went across his throat and pushed._

Stubbs' fingertips touched the bruises that laced his neck and he grimaced. What was he going to do? Leave her for Shredder to take so there wouldn't be a war between Brooklyn and Midtown and save everyone from a high amount of pain, maybe even death; or explode into a dangerous situation where it was four on one and be the hero... and possibly die himself?

He rubbed at his face and watched as Shredder moved in closer to the teenage girls ear. She cringed away as much as she could and Doon shoved the end of the knife against her neck. Binder slapped a hand over her mouth as she frantically tried to scream. Tears poured from her eyes and they searched the area desperately. They went from her sister to Patches and then landed on where he was hidden around the corner. Stubbs silently cursed and moved his foot back out of view. He chanced a glance around the building to see if she was still looking.

Her green eyes widened momentarily and Stubbs could tell that she thought her savior had finally arrived. Madeline's gaze flickered from him to Shredder and back. After doing it a few times, Shredder turned to see what she was looking at. His piercing eyes sought Stubbs' as he caught a glimpse of him moving away from the edge of the building.

"Lookit what we have here, boys."

Stubbs shook his head to clear it and took a deep breath before stepping into the alley and away from the safe haven of the crowded street.

"Shreddah," the Brooklyn newsie nodded towards the Midtown leader. "'ow goes it?"

"Considering I've got what I want," Shredder smirked. "I'd say my day's going pretty damn good. How's yours?"

Stubbs said nothing and Madeline took the liberty to try and shout his name. It became muffled due to Binder's hand squeezing against her cheeks. Shredder slanted his eyes over his shoulder to look at her.

"You here to stop me?"

Stubbs tensed at the young man's words. He had to make a decision, and quick. "...Depends."

Shredder looked at him contemplatively. "On what?"

_"We'se ain't givin 'er up. Do ya hear me?"_

"On if you'se plan on attackin Brooklyn or not," Stubbs replied without hesitation. He could almost feel Spot's arm flex over his neck. It got harder and harder to breathe with every second he stood there.

_"Do you'se undahstand?"_

Shredder swiveled around to face the girl and his boys, leaving Stubbs to stare at his back. "Seeing as I've already got her, I don't see any benefits from creating a war between your borough and mine. It would only cause problems."

_"We'se not givin up Madeline ta those monstahs."_

The girls eyes were staring at him pitifully. He wished she wouldn't do that. Stubbs grit his teeth and took a step forward. "Do I'se 'ave ya word dat you'se won't make trouble wid Brooklyn anymore if ya take 'er?"

Her eyes widened and she strained to move away from Binder's grasp. Doon shifted closer to her, the knife moving across her throat from one side to the other side. She froze as it grazed her skin and Stubbs saw the thin line of red appear right before his eyes.

_"You'se don't know what dey'd do ta someone like 'er."_

Shredder pivoted on his feet and lifted an eyebrow at the teenagers question. He glance back at Doon and answered with, "You have my word."

_"I'se do."_

Stubbs didn't hesitate to spit on his palm before thrusting it out towards the red haired boy. "Shake on it."

_"She's not goin anywhere."_

The Midtown leader seemed to think about it for a moment before spitting into his hand and clasping it around the hand of the Brooklynite's.

_"She's mine."_

_Sahrry, Spot,_ Stubbs thought to himself. _But it needed ta be done. It's bettah dis way._


	23. It's a relief to hear Spot Swearing

Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 23!

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11/7/10  
**This chapter has been edited... sorta. Tell me if you find any mistakes!**

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**Chapter Twenty-Three - It's a relief to hear Spot swearing**

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The sight of David and Jack on the other side of the newspaper distributor's gates almost had him worried. Their forlorn faces made him cautiously call out to everyone else to tell them where the two boys were. David looked exhausted and he smiled slightly at Spot when the gates finally opened. Jack arrived behind him and glanced towards the Brooklyn leader before leaning down and whispering into Les' ear. Seconds later, the square was celebrating a well deserved victory.

Spot turned, hoping to see a smiling Madeline but she was no where in sight. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes searched the crowd around him. She wasn't near the widely grinning Skittery or where Blitz was hanging on to Hawk's shoulders in joy. He spun around to find Racetrack, knowing that if she was going to be anywhere in the crowd when not with him that she would be with the short Italian.

Racetrack was standing behind Cowboy, his eyes flickering between him and Denton as they talked. He hadn't even noticed it, but Crutchy was nearby in the midst of telling the group around him a story. Spot hadn't seen the cart arrive with the boys from the Refuge. Maddie wasn't with either of them.

A body darted past him and then doubled back as soon as he saw who he went by. Spot looked upon the kid curiously, wondering why the Manhattan newsie was breathing so hard. He definitely knew him, but couldn't put a name to his face. His blue eyes were wide and filled with panic and his face was covered in distress. Spot looked on in alarm as the thin boy grabbed his wrist and began tugging him through the crowd.

"She needs help," he said breathlessly.

An unpleasant feeling rising up the back of his neck almost stopped Spot in his tracks, but the boy tightened his hold on his wrist and pulled him along. Spot stepped on someone's foot and he glanced back as he was dragged farther away from where Jack was still conversing with Denton.

Spot yanked his arm from the kid's grasp and paused. The feeling of dread hit him as he finally recognized the boy as the one he'd rescued at the rally. The one Dodger had taken home along with Madeline and Patches.

"Tell me what's goin on, Twiggy. Right now!"

"We don't have time for this! Shredder's got Maddie in an alley and Patches and Misty could die! They were bleeding when I took off to find you." Twiggy reached for Spot's hand again but one look at the older newsboy had him stepping back away from him.

Spot looked utterly furious. His jaw clenched, his gaze hardened, and his knuckles were white as his fists clinched closed. One of his hands loosened for a brief moment to pull his cane from his belt loop and then he was gripping one of Twiggy's shoulders tightly.

"Where is she?"

Twiggy pointed to the other side of the square. "She's in that alley over there."

Spot stiffly nodded and his hand shot out to grab a hold of someone that was running by them. Beetle turned when he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt and jerked him backwards. Just as he was about to yell at them, he caught sight of Spot's face.

"'ow do ya feel 'bout returnin da favor ta da one who gave you'se dat lovely lookin cut on ya face?" Spot's tone was dangerous.

Twiggy nervously glanced from one boy to another, his breathing beginning to turn into quick gasps.

Beetle smile wickedly and his light blue eyes gleamed. "I'se would love ta."

Spot once again stiffly nodded and then brought his fingers up to his lips before sending out a loud, sharp whistle. The people nearest to him covered their ears and scowled. Twiggy barely had time to even take a breath before Spot was pushing him through the crowd. As they passed through the energetic beings, he glanced over his shoulder and noticed more and more Brooklyn newsies appearing behind him and Spot. Blitz showed up in front of them, and with one look at Spot's expression, his curious look turned to a worried one. He immediately knew something was up.

He pushed himself next to Spot and asked, "Where's Maddie?"

Spot only had to say one word for his second in command to understand. "Shreddah."

Blitz's immediate response was, "He's dead."

"Twiggy," the boy tripped over someone's foot before looking up at Spot. "Tell me what happened."

So he did, and the more he got into detail about what had occurred before he took off, the more Spot became enraged. The look on his face wasn't just angry, it was vicious, and Twiggy hoped that whatever innocent bystander got in Spot's way while trying to get to Madeline made it out alive.

Miller and Driver shoved people out of their way without remorse and the former glanced at Spot over Twiggy's head. His thoughts turned back to what had taken place the night before and he instantly grew worried for Madeline's life. "'ow long 'as Stubbs been wid dem?"

Twiggy wriggled through a group of children no older then five before answering. "No longer then ten minutes, why?"

Spot caught on to what Miller was thinking. "Damn it!"

The King of Brooklyn doubled his speed at thrusting people out of his way, his newsies stalking along behind him.

* * *

I struggled harder then I had before and felt the tip of the knife Doon held dig into my skin. Shredder released Stubbs' hand and turned his head to check on me before looking back at the other boy.

"So," the red haired newsie gestured at Stubbs. "You do know Spot's going to kill you, right?"

Stubbs was momentarily frozen before he gave an easy smile. "'e'll get ovah it. Always does wid all da othahs."

Shredder smirked and took a step backwards. "Nah, I don't think so. You didn't see the look on his face at the rally when I was messin with her and he came to the rescue. This one's different."

The Brooklyn newsboy didn't look bothered by this information. He just shrugged and slid his hands into his pockets. I couldn't believe they were talking as if they were old friends. He shouldn't underestimate Spot; I might not have known him for as long as Stubbs had, but even I knew his temper wasn't one to mess with. Stubbs was probably going be beaten to death, and I couldn't say I wasn't feeling happy about that right about now.

A sharp whistle came from a distance and Stubbs suddenly looked terrified. "Shit!"

Shredder's shoulder tensed and I could feel the three boys surrounding me shift uneasily.

"Seems that it's time for us to be leaving. Judge, get the girl."

The brown skinned teen came around me and went to Misty's side. He got a good grip on her unconscious form before picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. I cringed at the sight of blood dripping from behind her curtain of hair and onto the cobblestone.

"Well, it's been a pleasure doing business with ya Stub-"

"Wait," Stubbs held his hands out as he apprehensively glanced between the alley entrance and Shredder. "I'se need you'se ta 'it me'se."

"What?" the older boy asked sharply. "I don't have time for this, we're getting out of here."

Shredder motioned for the boy behind me to start moving and I cried out as I was lifted off my feet. The hand over my mouth disappeared and I was tossed over Binder's shoulder.

"You'se need ta 'it me'se so dat he doesn't think I'se didn't try ta save 'er!"

"Tough luck, kid. You're on your own."

I couldn't see Stubbs' expression, but I could definitely hear his enraged yell and then an "Oomph" as someone hit the ground.

"'it me'se or ya can't 'ave 'er!"

A scuffle broke out and I heard the sound of fists beating against flesh. I held in a whimper and covered my mouth with both hands. Another whistle filled the air and along with it came a familiar yell. I now knew what had frightened Stubbs so badly. Spot was coming.

Encouraged by the sound of the whistle, I kicked my legs out and writhed to be released from Binder's hold. I hit something solid and I was instantaneously dropped over the back of the husky boy's shoulder. I put my hands out to catch myself before my head landed on the road first and then flipped over backwards onto my back.

Binder crumpled to the ground next to me and I shuffled away from him on my elbows. He moaned in pain and I quickly stood up. Shredder and Stubbs were both on the ground in front of Doon and Judge and they both watched the two of them fight. They rolled towards Binder and I, and I moved backwards even farther. Doon turned to continue watching them and saw Binder on the ground out of the corner of his eye.

"'ey! What ah ya doin, Bindah?" He hurried towards me and I tripped over the uneven road and slammed into wall behind me. My head hit the bricks and I winced as the pain shot through my skull to right behind my eyes.

"She kicked me in da balls," I could barely hear Binder groan out.

"Get up! We'se needs ta get outta 'ere fore Spot arrives." Doon reached for me and he pointed the knife threateningly towards my throat. I became paralyzed and breathed heavily as he got closer.

"I'se gettin outta 'ere."

I looked between Doon's legs to see Judge make a run for the alley entrance, my sister's head bobbing against his back.

"Misty!" I screamed, and, without even looking at the knife wielding teen above me, I scurried between his legs, knocking him off balance in the process, and took off after the boy holding my sister.

I didn't get far. Someone's hand grasped my ankle and I hit the ground once again. My teeth bit into my tongue as my chin smashed into the street. I spit out blood and looked around the still fighting Stubbs and Shredder to where Judge was jumping over a motionless Patches and disappearing around the corner.

"No! Misty!" I cried out. The hand around my ankle tightened before completely disappearing.

"We'se needs ta get outta 'ere. Bindah, let's go!"

"What about da boss?"

"'e can take care of 'imself, jus' go!"

Doon and Binder came into view as they jumped over me and dodged the fight still going on. Doon took one last glance over his shoulder as he abandoned his leader. I gasped as more blood spewed from my mouth and tried to stand up. I was on my knees when the last two newsies in the alley separated.

Breathing heavily, they stared at each other from either side of the road. I glimpsed a small body from the corner of my eye and I hesitatingly looked from Shredder to where Patches lay. His face had grown pale and there were dark rings around his eyes. I tried to quietly spit out the blood pooling in my mouth before standing up. Thankfully, I went unnoticed as Shredder took a step in Stubbs' direction.

"You got what you wanted. Now I need to leave. Any second now Spot's going to be rounding that corner."

I took this moment to spring from my place on the ground and run past the two of them. There was a yell and then I was tackled from behind. I hit the street face first and the person on top of me pulled my head back by my hair before bashing it into the ground.

My focus became blurry, but my hearing worked just fine since I was able to hear the sound of running footsteps coming in our direction. The body on my back shifted and I felt their hot breath against my ear.

"You'se say anythin ta Spot and you'se, ya sistah, an dat liddle Manhattan friend of ya's ah dead. Do you'se undahstand?"

The violent tone in Stubbs' voice had me nodding as the edges of my vision began to grow black. Stubbs was torn from my back and I paid no attention to Shredder beating into him. The footsteps were growing louder with each passing second and I could hear a boyish voice yelling, "That one!"

I crawled forward and my hands came upon the small body of Patches. I pulled myself up next to him and coughed as blood ran down the back of my throat. It landed on the front of his shirt, mingling with the already bloody mess from his broken nose.

My eyes started to drift closed, everything blurring out. The last thing I heard before completely passing out was a male voice shouting, "'ey! What gives ya da right ta try and take 'er from me, ya bastard?"

Never in my life had I been so relieved to hear Spot Conlon swearing.


	24. We'se Don't Know

11/7/10  
**This chapter has been edited... sorta. Tell me if you find any mistakes!**

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**Chapter Twenty-Four - We'se don't know**

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The sight of Madeline laying next to Patches, both of them bloody and bleeding, had him standing straighter and pumping his fists in anger. Stubbs was hunched over trying to push himself up from the ground. He failed and fell back to the street. Shredder had backed away from the Brooklyn newsie the second he saw Spot. He was wiping the blood from his mouth onto his sleeve.

Spot gestured with his head, his eyes never leaving the scene before him, and snapped out, "Go aftah dem. Get 'em back 'ere."

Three of his newsboys trailed after Miller as he charged down the street to catch up with Doon and Binder. The two were currently streaking passed buildings and shoving into people as they tried to make a fast getaway.

"Shit, shit, shit," Blitz skid past Spot and landed hard on his knees next to Maddie and Patches, Twiggy skinning his hands as he did the same. Blitz slowly turned the small girl over and Spot's eyes narrowed at the blood gushing from the wounds on her face. His seething eyes caught Shredder's defiant ones.

"Is dere a reason you'se is tryin ta take me girl right from undah my nose?"

The Midtown leader wisely stayed quiet. Instead, he scratched the back of his head casually. And then he smirked. Spot growled and moved forward past where Blitz was making sure Patches was still breathing and Twiggy was whimpering. Footsteps sounded behind him and Beetle arrived at his right side, Driver showing up on the other.

"Really, if ya wanted 'er dat bad ya shoulda jus' asked me fah 'er."

Shredder broke out into a sly smile. "It wouldn't have made any difference. You still wouldn't have given her to me."

Spot shrugged a shoulder. "True, but at least I'se woulda known you'se was coming so I'se could prepare fa ya 'rrival."

"What, like a cheery welcome and a dinner of soup and bread?"

"No, more like a punch ta da face."

Beetle cracked his knuckles and Shredder briefly glanced at the muscled newsie. "Yeah, well your boy already beat you to it. Literally. Can't you see the bruises already forming?"

Spot barely acknowledged the dark masses on his jawline. Not taking his eyes off of Shredder, he kicked his foot out and jabbed Stubbs in the side. The teen groaned at the contact before rolling onto his back. He squinted up at Driver.

"'bout time ya got 'ere."

Driver scowled and pulled his friend to his feet while he moaned in pain. Spot gripped his cane tighter and lifted it to point at the Midtown newsboy. "You'se ready ta get ya ass beat worse den what Stubbs did ta ya?"

Shredder raised a brow. "Think you'll be able to do it yourself? Without the cane."

Spot handed his gold-tipped cane and sling-shot to Driver to hold. He rolled his shoulders and put his fists up.

Shredder grinned maliciously and shook his wrists out. "This is going to be fun."

* * *

I had no clue how long it had been since my eyes were last opened. It could have been minutes, hours, or even days. I was in pain. My head was throbbing, the back of my skull aching badly. I ran my tongue over my dry lips and winced at the movement. The pain was so bad that had I not slowly cracked my eyes open, I never would have registered the fingers running circles over the back of my right hand.

The blurry mass of a person sat next to me on a stool. It took me several minutes before my vision was finally cleared. The troubled look on Spot Conlon's turned face had my breath hitching. He didn't notice. His stormy eyes were pointed to where his thumb was running against my skin. He bent closer to the bed, his forehead lightly resting against my hip. The sight of a large cut along his chin almost made me jolt up to get a closer look, but I stayed still. Instead, I quietly observed him. Along with the scabbed over cut on his jaw, he had a large bruise marring his cheek and several scratches amongst the various scars on his tanned arms.

I surveyed the surrounding area and found that I was on the bunk I had slept in the night before. We were back in Brooklyn. No one else was in the bunk room other then Spot and I. His fingers lightly squeezed my hand and I gave a gentle tug back. He tilted his head up to look at me before shooting forward and pulling me up into a tight hug.

"Don't evah do dat 'gain, Mads."

My fingers clenched the back of his shirt and my face nuzzled into the warm skin of his neck.

"Ya nevah 'llowed ta go anywhere without me'se. You'se scared da hell outta me, ya know dat?"

I nodded my head and breathed in the scent that was purely Spot Conlon. He leaned back and the hands that had circled my waist were now on either side of my face. His forehead rested against mine and his nose brushed the tip of my own. His dark gray eyes stared worriedly into my pale green ones.

"When we'se got you'se out of dere, ya looked half dead. Seemed like most of ya blood was gushin from ya mouth. Sahrry ta say dis, but, ya lost a tooth."

My hand reached between the two of our faces and I poked a finger into my mouth to feel for the open gum space. Spot chuckled and lowered my hand before interlocking our fingers.

"It's none of ya front teeth so you'se is fine."

I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes. Spot's nose rubbed against my nose and the corners of my mouth lifted slightly. That was when his lips briefly brushed against mine. I instantly froze and he pulled away. Slowly reopening my eyes, I saw that he was gazing at me with a fondness that I had seen my father give my mother numerous times when they were still alive.

"Spot," I tried to speak.

"No, don't, Maddie," he quickly interrupted me. "I'se knows it's too soon since what 'appened wid Robert, but I'se needed ta let ya know."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and nodded.

"Ok," I said softly. I glanced at the empty room around us. The questions were instantly pouring out of me. "Where's Misty? Is Patches okay? He's not hurt too bad is he? What happened to Shredder? An-and Stubbs... is he alright?"

Spot shifted on the edge of the mattress. I scooted farther towards the head of the bed to give him more room. He ran his fingers through his dirty-blond hair and cleared his throat.

"Patches is fine. 'e's back in Manhattan gettin checked out by Doc. 'e 'as a broken nose, but dat's 'bout it. 'e woke up fa a few minutes, told us you'se protected 'im from da brunt of da attack."

I smiled in relief to hear that Patches had woken up and that he was doing alright.

"An ya know Stubbs tried ta 'elp ya, right? Well 'e's got a couple broken bones dat needed ta be set right away so 'e's stayin in 'hattan fah a while."

Spot mistook my scowl as me being worried for the traitorous newsie.

"We'se took care a Shreddah. 'e was practically dead when we'se left 'im in dat alley. You'se won't be needin ta be worried 'bout 'im any longah."

He went silent and I was almost afraid to ask my first question again. "Where's Misty?"

Spot looked down and his fist clenched into the sheets covering my thighs.

"Where's my sister, Spot? Where's Misty?"

"We'se don't know."

* * *

Footsteps shuffled back and forth past the room. The candlelight between the floor and bottom of the door was the only light leaking into the darkness surrounding the prone figure lying on the floor. The pale yellow dress fitted loosely over their overly thin body did nothing but help to bring out the deep bruises painted over her skin. Her legs were twisted into an awkward position, her arms resting against her middle. At first glance, the small girl looked dead. But if one looked close enough, they would be able to see the tell tale sign of her chest barely moving up and down as she softly breathed in the stale air.

Someone on the other side of the door swore loudly. Several heavy footsteps sounded throughout the room behind the wall. The door was slammed open and the room lit up as three boys distributed the weight of a person between themselves. The fourth boy closed the door and held up the lantern for the other three to see where they were going. They moved towards the bed, one of them tripping over the legs of the girl still unconscious on the floor.

"Would somebody get 'er outta da way fore we'se kill ourselves trying ta get _'is Majesty _ta safety?"

The blond haired teen grasped the girl's arm with one hand and then dragged her away from the middle of the room. The three set their burden down onto the bed, not unkindly, before taking a step back and taking in the damage.

"Jesus, what da 'ell did Spot do ta 'im?"

"'e looks like 'e got run ovah by a trolley."

"What 'appened? I'se thought you'se was supposed ta get da girl an get out of dere."

"You'se knows Shreddah, 'e always 'as to put 'imself inta more dangah. Dat girl was more trouble den she was worth."

"Yeah, I'se mean, really? Goin aftah Conlon's girl, an fah some 'omeless guy who claims ta be a faddah jus wantin 'is daughter 'ome? Was 'e crazy?"

"Obviously, look at 'im! 'e's practically dead, if not already 'eaded in dat direction."

"An now we'se is on Brooklyn's bad side. Son of a bitch. As soon as Shreddah wakes up we'se is 'avin a liddle talk wid 'im."

It went silent. The four boys continued to inspect their leader as the man himself struggled for breath. The dark skinned boy rubbed a hand over his face. "Next time dis 'appens, dis confrontation wid stealin somethin from Conlon, we'se come up wid a bettah plan before somethin like dis can occur 'gain."

The other three nodded agreeably. The boy holding the lantern turned and found himself staring down at the twisted form of the small girl. "Someone get 'er off da floor and somewheres out of sight. Shreddah don't need ta be seein 'er right aftah 'er smart mouth just about got 'im killed tanight. If it 'adn't been fa 'er, we'se woulda had time ta get dat othah girl outta dere wid minutes ta spare."

The hefty boy and a dark haired teen moved towards the tiny being. One opened the door to the armoire in the corner of the room while the other none too gently picked her up before throwing her onto the floor of the cabinet.

The newsie holding onto the handle of the lantern leaned down slightly and grinned at the closed eyes of the pale girl. "Sweet dreams, _Misty._"

Cruel laughter was heard as both doors, the one to the dresser and the one to the room, slammed shut and the two people inside were put into darkness once again. The being inside the armoire shifted just a tiny bit, her eyes squinting open to nothingness. Seconds later her eyes were rolling into the back of her head as blood slowly, but continuously, leaked from the wound on the back of her skull.

The small broken girl known as Misty Eyes was no more.

* * *

**Reviews –** I'm just going to say this: Thanks to everyone who ever reviewed for Murmur. Without all of you, I never would have had the encouragement to get through to the end and get this story finished. I freakin love all of you! This fanfiction has almost reached the 200 review mark, please, let's make it happen!

**_For those of you who reviewed for chapter 24, thanks - _**

**_Eavis  
chaoticmom  
elleestJenn  
Austra  
LivingByWill  
Dreamless-Mermaid  
LucyOfNarnia  
X-Scree Scree-X  
YumKiwiDelicious  
MushSpotgoil_**

**_(5/14/10)  
_****_Look for the sequel to Murmur,_**

_Mumble_

_**Which is up right now!**_


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